Stillwater High
by madame.alexandra
Summary: In this very au story, Jenny is the girl Gibbs meets in high school - his first love, until some unexpected teenage mistakes change their lives, and the paths they take, forever. Jibbs, 1st part of a 4 part series.
1. Two Pink Lines

_a/n:so it begins: the most au i've ever au'ed (if you will). i tend to keep saying that with every new au i write, but the deeper we get into NCIS seasons (12, guys!) with no new Jenny material, the more creative i have to get to keep from being boring! so we'll see how this goes. i hope you don't mind taking a real leap of faith with me, because i've no clue if anyone will like this or not !_

* * *

 **Stillwater, Pennsylvania: 1984**

 **Two Pink Lines**

* * *

At the edge of Stillwater, there was a rickety red barn down by a shallow creek – a picturesque old thing that seemed to fit the small-town stereotype; it was on the property of an old farmer who'd long since built a smaller one, closer to his house.

The old farmer had a local kid help him with the crops during the season, and he turned a half-blind old eye to what the kid did in his free time in that old barn – it was the kind of barn with a hayloft, and empty stalls – a nice, cozy getaway for a teenager with a girlfriend – even in the colder months.

It was almost April – not so cold anymore; Spring was heavy in the air, and though the approaching season meant less time to dawdle and more work, Leroy Jethro Gibbs was glad he didn't have to haul a metric ton of blankets into the loft just to keep warm – today, in particular, it was balmy enough for her to be content with just a knit afghan.

He lay on his back, staring at the wood arches of the ceiling, and frowned. He shifted onto his side – the blankets were a hassle, but the more of them there were, the less the hay stabbed into his skin. He turned his head to see if she was uncomfortable – and she caught his eye, flushing.

She was trying to work out a knot in her necklace, her fingers moving clumsily – shaky and clumsy was rare for her; she was always so confident. He grinned at her and reached for her hands, winking – he'd tangled it up, with his hot hands; he'd get it unwrought, with patience.

Her hands fell to her side, and she tilted her head. She – her name was Jennifer, Jenny Shepard – looked up at him, and flicked her eyes back down. He sensed she was uncomfortable.

"Hay stick you?" he asked, lowering his hands to rest them on her chest a moment.

He bent down and kissed her neck, catching her skin with his teeth. She shivered a little, and swatted at him.

"You'll leave a mark," she murmured, shifting.

She shrugged. The hay hadn't bothered her at all – for a brief moment, up here, alone, in a kind of rustic, standstill paradise, she'd lost her nerve, and had even been able to forget about what was bothering her – but that moment was over, and laying next to him, naked, under just a blanket, it was seemed impossible to ever forget that maybe their fragile world was about to come crashing down.

He rose up on his arm and started fiddling with her necklace again – it was a little Egyptian hieroglyph, something her father had brought her from worlds away, back when he was in the Army.

There was some lazy concentration in the way he tried to untangle strands of her long, dark red hair, and bits of straw and hay, from the knotted mess the delicate gold chain had become. She watched him handling the glittery pendant carefully – he glared at it purposefully as he tried to free it without pulling her hair, and she felt small and uncertain watching him; her eyes stung harshly.

She didn't want all this to change, but it didn't really matter – once she told him she was even worried, that it was even something they had to talk about – it was just going to make everything different. She wanted to keep watching him untangle the necklace like that was the only real problem they had.

She opened her mouth to take a deep breath, and she hiccupped slightly, as if she might start crying. She squeezed her knees together for strength, and pushed his hand away gently.

He gave her an amused look.

"Almost got it," he mumbled soothingly, dipping his head down to kiss her lips.

He thought she was worried for the well being of her necklace – the stupid necklace; the reason he'd first spoken to her, sometime back when they weren't even interested in each other – in anyone – like this.

"Jethro," she whispered, shifting anxiously – she was the only one who called him _Jethro_ ; he was _Leroy_ to everyone else.

The hay did stick her now, stabbed into her back like a punishment, and she winced – she had always thought the blankets were a hassle, too, but they definitely provided more cushion. She - they'd – put up with anything for this old barn, though; they'd much rather be caught by the farmer Gibbs' worked for than Jenny's father – or either of their parents.

He mumbled something to her, and ran his hand over her under the blanket. His fingertips brushed her breasts and then he slid his palm over her hand, reaching for her fingers.

She fluttered her hand, reaching right back. She thought about what she was going to say – she'd been thinking for days, trying to act like nothing was wrong – and there was still, she tried to tell herself, the tiniest sliver of hope that maybe nothing was wrong.

He squeezed her hand, and pressed his lips to her throat, and it felt stifling – she couldn't _do_ this again without saying _something._ She pulled one arm out from under him and pressed on his chest gently.

" _Jethro_ ," she said again, insistently.

He nudged her jaw with his nose in that charming way of his, and looked at her calmly. He arched an eyebrow. It was a good thing she hadn't composed something eloquent to say, because when she met his eyes, her words just came out in a sticky, quick rush, anyway –

" _I think I might be pregnant."_

She felt sick the moment she admitted it out loud; since the moment her period became nonexistent instead of just late, she hadn't even told her best friend that there was even the possibility – she hadn't even told her best friend that she'd gone all the way with her boyfriend.

She held her breath – maybe on purpose, maybe because she couldn't breathe; and he didn't react at all, he just kept looking at her with an arched eyebrow, like the words hadn't hit him yet. Slowly, though, his face changed; he seemed to stop breathing, too, his eyes wide.

She turned towards him, her knees rubbing together. She reached for his arm with both of hers, taking hold of him nervously.

"I _think_ ," she said hoarsely. "I – I didn't take a test or anything, yet."

She swallowed nauseously – she was still trying to convince herself that she _couldn't_ be pregnant – as long as she didn't take a test, that meant she _wasn't_ – right? She tried to force herself to believe that they had been responsible, so –

He shook his head slowly, his brow tightening.

"No," he muttered stiffly. "We used 'em – condoms."

It sounded like he was trying to convince himself of the same thing.

"I don't know," she hissed at him weakly, "maybe one broke – they break, and I'm - I'm not on anything else."

Her cheeks flushed. She felt embarrassed, exposed, and she'd never felt that way around him before, even when she told him she could never get birth control with out someone in this small town finding out, telling her father – so she'd asked him to get protection.

"You haven't taken a test?" he asked, dazed.

"I _can't_ buy a test here," she answered desperately, her fingertips digging into his arm. "There's _one_ drug store – everyone will see, someone will tell my Dad!"

It was the same reason she'd had him get protection – talk was everything in towns as small as Stillwater, and everyone knew everyone.

He swallowed, his eyes moving – anxious, but he was still careful to hold his jaw firm, not showing it.

"I can – " he started.

She shook her head, hay tangling into her hair.

"No – no, Jethro, they know who you're dating, _everyone_ knows," she whispered – she didn't know why she was whispering; it was only the old wood listening. "Then, even if it's negative, the whole town – and half the county – they'll all know I _thought_ I was, _and_ that I'm not a virgin – "

He nodded, lowering his body closer to her a little. The way people talked here – Stillwater was small, the little boroughs surrounding it were small, and there was no need in starting a rumor if nothing came of it – small town talk could be cruel.

"We need to drive to – Bloomsburg, or two cities over or something," she told him shakily.

"I could swipe one from Dad's store," Gibbs tried – he suddenly didn't know if he wanted to wait, he wanted to know now – he couldn't even think straight, about anything.

She shook her head again.

"It's a general store – food, tools, garden," she murmured. "He doesn't stock, I've checked," she admitted, flushing.

Gibbs swallowed hard.

"How long," he started huskily. "How long – have you thought?" he stuttered.

She shrugged a little, biting her lip.

"I've, I, uh – I was just waiting to … " she trailed off.

He lay down next to her, falling hard onto his back. He put a hand over his face, and he nodded – about what, he didn't know. He had his truck – he could drive her somewhere to get a test, at some city with more than one drug store. He rubbed his forehead hard.

"Jenny," he said hoarsely, trying not to sound too terrified. "Your old man – he'll _shoot_ me. He'll shoot me for _touching_ you."

She didn't say anything – the only thing she could think was – yeah, the retired Colonel would shoot him, once for touching his daughter, twice for knocking her up – but then he'd shoot her, too; so they were in it together. She closed her eyes tightly.

He sat up, and reached for her, shaking her shoulder.

"Hey, Jen," he called. He leaned over her, brightening a little – a false brightness, wary hope on his face. He chewed on his lip a minute. "You're probably not, right?" he asked.

He was looking for the kind of reassurance she'd been trying to give herself for days – weeks. She opened her mouth to agree, to nod – _yeah! probably not! –_ except that was the moment it felt more probable than ever, and even if she wanted to give herself false hope, she couldn't bring herself to downplay it for him.

"I don't know, Jethro," she said finally, her voice shaking. "I haven't had a period for – since … February."

She'd been waiting for it for most of March; that was the problem – and she couldn't just wait and see anymore, because she needed – well, she needed to know, because… they just needed to know.

"Shit," he said.

He threw himself onto his back, staring at the ceiling of the loft again. He swallowed hard, panic rising in his throat bitterly. His heart slammed painfully against his ribcage and she reached for his arm again, gripping him tightly. She felt an unshakeable fear for a second; fear that he would start to hate her.

They hadn't even been having sex that long – just since New Year's, since they'd been together a year.

" _Shit_ ," he swore again, choking on the curse.

"Jethro," she said, sitting up. She clutched the blanket to her, and reached out, placing her hand on his neck, near his cheek. "Jethro, I'm really scared," she managed.

He touched her hand, his eyes still on the ceiling. Then, he met her eyes, and reached silently for her necklace. It was still in a knot, still tangled up with straw, and her hair – it was such a mess because he'd been tangling his fingers in it in the heat of the moment.

He swallowed, staring at the damn thing – maybe because ten minutes ago, it had been his only concern.

"I don't think I can untangle it," he muttered numbly, defeated.

She licked her lips, holding the blanket to her chest and looking down at his hand. She reached for the necklace at her throat, and started to cry – in a way, it was a relief. She closed her eyes, curled into herself – the blanket tight around her shoulders – and bowed her head, pulling away from him.

He grit his teeth, flinching – he really he hated it when Jenny cried; he thought he was bad at making her feel better – and his mother always told him he wasn't a _tear_ person.

He sat up awkwardly, unsure what to do. He reached for his jeans, and slid them on, upending some hay as he shifted and crawled towards her. He sat next to her, and let one leg dangle off the loft, reaching out to put his hands on her knee.

"Jen?" he asked. "Jen, don't cry," he pleaded. "Look, you don't even know," he tried. "You might – I'll just get you a test," he said, reaching for her arm.

She swiped at her eyes and let the blanket fall, reaching for her own clothes – a sundress, the first of the season. She fastened on her bra – and pulled the light thing over her head, crawling to sit with him. She wiped at her eyes again, trying to hold back more tears.

"I need one soon," she said haggardly. She wrapped her arms around herself, and he looked her up and down.

She didn't look any different. She still looked like the same girl he'd taken to homecoming last year, but her hair was longer. And she wasn't crying then.

He thought about it a minute – he thought about it too hard, because it gave him something concrete to focus on – something other than the loud, indecipherable tumult in his head.

"They got this – bakery, in Bloomsburg, they make this – French thing, Mom likes," he began gruffly.

Jenny smiled a little weakly.

"Macaroons," she said quietly.

Gibbs nodded.

"I surprise 'er with 'em, sometimes," he said, a guilty look striking his eyes. "Haven't … lately."

He hadn't, because he'd been so caught up in Jenny, and being around her and with her – his mother liked Jenny, even loved her, and she hadn't noticed –or at least, she hadn't told her son if she had.

"I can go get some, stop in some overnight drugstore," he said slowly. "No one in Bloomsburg gives a damn about Stillwater."

She nodded, taking a deep breath – that was a start. She licked her lips, tugging on the hem of her dress.

"How long?" she asked.

"Few days?" Gibbs guessed, lifting his shoulders.

She bit her lip, and nodded. She tried to take a deep breath, but something caught in her throat, and her face fell again. She pushed her hair back, breathing softly, but quickly.

He tried to give her a smirk.

"Hey," he said huskily. "If you are – uh, the Macaroons, they'll butter up my Mom."

She laughed a little, but it was a weak laugh, an unconvinced one. He knew it wasn't a joke, either – in fact, he didn't even know what it was. The whole concept, the whole possibility – seemed abstract. It wasn't even something he could really fathom.

He held out his arm, and she moved closer, burrowing against his side. She let her legs hang of the loft as well, and looked down to the hay-covered floor. It had never looked so far down before – but she'd never worried about falling, either.

She closed her eyes tightly and rested her head on his shoulder, and for a moment – she was able to bring all of her thoughts to a halt; all of the fear, the worry, the nausea, the uncertainty – and she just sat there in the barn loft with him for a moment, because at least for a few more days – they wouldn't know the answer.

* * *

He sat on a rock near the Stillwater covered bridge, his back to the faded, dusty red-painted steel that reminded him a little of an old barn. He flicked a rock from his hand into the creek, and turned his head when he heard gravelly footsteps behind him.

She sat down next to him, situating herself cozily on the same rock as him, hip-to-hip and knee-to-knee. A bag fell off of her shoulder and rested on the rocky, grassy ground at her feet.

"Hey," he said.

She spared him a small, nervous smile, and nodded. She turned, reaching for her bag, clutching tightly at the frayed shoulder strap. He put his hand on her lower back and leaned over to kiss her. He pulled her hair back from her neck.

"You take it?" he asked in her ear.

She nodded again, and he dug his fingers into her, pulling her a little closer, apprehensively. She pulled a porcelain jewelry box out of her bag, and sat it on her lap – balancing it on her knees. He recognized it; he'd seen it in her room, a delicate, antique looking thing – he knew it had a springy ballerina inside, that danced to a French lullaby – it was another thing her father had brought her, from his military days.

She took a deep breath, her eyes on the jewelry box. She chewed on her lip.

"I haven't looked," she admitted finally.

She winced, and then looked over at him, as if expecting him to berate her. He met her eyes – but he didn't say anything. He'd been sitting here, waiting for her to meet him, assuming she knew. He wasn't so much upset with her as – well, he understood.

"I took it this morning," she said quietly, biting her lip. "I just … chucked it in here, and put the whole thing in my bag," she explained. She took a deep breath. She shook her head a little, at a loss for words.

"You had it in there?" Gibbs asked, pointing at her bag. "All day, at school?"

"In my locker," Jenny answered weakly. She tossed her hair back, and bit her lip. She laughed, a dry, hoarse noise of disbelief. "I stopped by to, to uh, grab my history book and it was there – _hey, you might be pregnant_!"

She trailed off, chewing on her lip again.

"I wanted to look with you," she said in a small voice.

He nodded, slipping his arm further around her waist.

It had been more than a week since she'd told him she was worried; he'd gone to Bloomsburg on Sunday, after church, to get his mother her sweets – and he'd picked up a single test while he was there. He'd met Jenny at the barn, to give her the test, on Tuesday – and she'd put it off until today.

"You goin' crazy, Jen?" he asked. "Not knowin'?"

He was. Crazier by the second – hell, he was afraid to touch her; he was afraid of what he'd done.

She nodded, licking her lips.

"But I couldn't – I had to wait to take it," she said, as if she were justifying herself. "Because … if I am, well, today's Friday, so I have a weekend to … I don't know, I don't know," she murmured tensely.

A weekend to – cry, scream, jump out of a window? Run away? Figure out what she was going to do? Put on a brave face? She stared down at the little jewelry box – if she could just keep it in here forever – ignorance was supposed to be bliss, right?

Gibbs rubbed his thumb over her spine a moment, his eyes on her hands. He flexed his hand, and nudged her shoulder with his.

"Think you should just open it," he suggested quietly.

"I think," she said softly, focusing on it with wariness. She swallowed thickly. "I think I need to sit here … and work up the courage."

"Can't sit here forever, Jen," he pointed out.

"I know."

"Worst that could happen – "

"The _worst_ that could happen is that I'm _pregnant_!" she broke in testily.

He nodded, his jaw tight.

"Maybe you're not," he said, turning towards her. He rested his other hand on her thigh, pulling her leg closer. "Jenny," he started, grasping for something comforting, something reassuring, to say.

"Maybe I'm not," she repeated thickly, turning her head. She licked her lips and her breath caught. "But I think I am," she confessed quietly.

She looked at him again like he might lose his cool, and again he didn't. He just looked back. He kept looking, and then he squeezed her thigh and held her leg against him a moment, and then he reached for some gravel, and held it in his hand.

"Can't stand it anymore, Jen," he admitted finally, a little grit in his teeth, a little of his own panic coming out. He skipped a rock with tense precision. "You – you look, when you can."

She leaned into him, holding the box there so gingerly on her knees, listening to the rocks he was skipping hit water. She felt an impending sense of doom, and at the same time, a daunting sense of carelessness - if she wasn't, then she wasn't, and if she was – that was that.

Still, she held the box. It _was_ driving her crazy and she couldn't _stand_ it either, but she just couldn't open it yet. She wanted to sit, for a few more minutes – greedy for just a few more minutes, because she thought that if this was just a frivolous teenage scare, she'd have no problem looking – the heaviness in the pit of her stomach told her that her instincts were more than likely right.

"Hey, Jethro?"

He grunted.

"I'm going to open the box."

He skipped another rock, and nodded.

She sucked in her breath.

"It's two pink lines," she told him.

His head snapped over.

"What's that mean?" he asked harshly – but she was looking at him, and the box was still closed.

He grit his teeth.

" _Jen_!"

" _If_ it's two pink lines," she said. "That's what we don't want."

He was looking at her now, and that's what she wanted. She didn't want him skipping rocks while she faced it alone. She bit her lip, and turned to open the box – and faltered again.

"Jethro, can you just open it?" she gasped.

She expected him to take over for her. She didn't expect him to reach over and flip it open without warning, while she was still focusing on him. She opened her mouth in surprise while his eyes flicked down. He only looked for a moment, and then his gaze snapped back up – and the look in his eyes was so decisive, so final, she knew.

Jenny looked down, and the two pink lines consumed her vision – there, glaring off of a cheap white stick, settled in an old jewelry box lined with pink felt, serenaded by an old, carved wooden ballerina spinning in a morose circle.

She closed the box with a loud _snap,_ and burst into tears.

Gibbs slid his arm up her back and pulled her close to him, staring stiffly ahead – today, he didn't beg her to stop crying. He didn't think she'd be able to even if he asked, and he felt too much like crying himself to be bothered by her tears.

She clutched the jewelry box to her chest tightly and pressed her face into his shirt – he wasn't sure if she was scared, or angry, or sick – he couldn't decipher what he was feeling, finding out –

It _wasn't_ just a scare.

She was – _they_ were –

He turned his head and pressed his nose against her forehead.

"It's okay, Jenny," he said huskily.

She pushed her hair back, tangling her fingers in it tightly.

"Oh my god," she moaned. "Oh my _god –_ it's not okay, it's not okay," she repeated, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. "What did I do?"

He pulled her a little closer, turning and putting his other arm around her.

"S'not your fault," he muttered mechanically. "I should've … shouldn't've asked you to – "

"Oh," she burst out, jerking away and looking at him with red eyes. "Don't – _don't_ act like you made me," she pointed at herself. "I wanted to do it, too!"

She pushed her hair back again, the jewelry box lying in her lap.

She stared at him with wide eyes, and then she covered her mouth, searching his stiff features – his clenched jaw, the tense line of his brow. She felt dizzy – but the moment passed. She reached out for him with her free hand, clutching his shoulder.

"What am I going to do?" she asked hoarsely, her voice cracking.

Her lashes fluttered. He reached over and grabbed her thigh again, pulling it close to his.

"I'll take care of you, Jenny," he said gruffly, with a lot more bravado and certainty than he felt – that's what he was supposed to do, wasn't it? Step up, be a man? "I always said I was gonna join the military, I can take care of you – "

"Jethro, you're not old enough!" she burst out. " _We're_ not old enough! People are still _taking care_ of us!"

She licked her lips and pushed his hand away.

"I don't want you to go away – you can't leave me here alone, not with everyone talking – and they'll stare, and my father – " she gasped, clutching her hand to her stomach. "He'll _kill_ me, Jethro, he'll _kick_ me out – "

"He'll kill me first, Jen," Gibbs interrupted grimly.

She shook her head, tears splashing down her cheeks.

"He's so _proud_ ," she said. "He – I'm supposed to go off to college and, and – "

She broke off, dissolving into tears again.

Tentatively, Gibbs rested his hand on her leg once more, gritting his teeth. He'd always been wary of Jenny's father – the retired Army Colonel was the reigning Police Chief of Stillwater and its surrounding boroughs. He'd always been cordial to Gibbs, but Gibbs had never felt like Jasper Shepard liked him much – and now –

"How am I going to tell him?" sobbed Jenny.

Gibbs flexed his hand, and shook her leg.

"Jen," he said, clearing his throat. "Jen, you're not tellin' 'im alone – I'll tell him. I'll – marry you – "

" _No_ ," she moaned, reaching down – she didn't slap his hand away, though, she clutched it. "Please just – don't talk about that, _don't_ talk about marrying me," she whispered.

That was another thing she couldn't handle – the idea that they'd have to actually face this, figure it out, _do_ it. That this small town would expect a certain path – she'd be the talk of the town, and while she was trying to cope with this incomprehensible change in her life.

"I have to tell him – he won't think anything of me if it's not me, Jethro. He'll think I'm a coward."

"You're not tellin' him alone," snapped Gibbs tensely.

He felt like he was on the outside, and it nettled him. He had parents, too – did she think his equally disciplined, hard-ass old man was going to take this with a charmed smile on his face? Jackson Gibbs would be ready with a shotgun to do Shepard's dirty work – and his mother, his _mother –_

Jenny pushed her hair back again and rubbed her knees together, searching his face.

"What am I going to _do_?" she asked again.

Her throat felt so raw; her chest felt so tight. This didn't seem like something that happened to her, to real people – it was just a dramatic event for films, for sensational stories in health class – _she_ couldn't be pregnant, _she_ was going to travel the world, _she_ was supposed to leave Stillwater –

"Shouldn't you be sayin' _we_?" Gibbs grunted tiredly.

She held her breath, and he looked up at her bitterly.

"You think I'm done with you, Jen?" he asked. The thought bothered him – maybe she was just stressed – she had the right to be more scared than he was, more of the weight would fall on her – but they had – they were young, and they were barely old enough to know what it meant –

"I'm not goin' anywhere," he muttered. He paused, and looked down warily. "We said we loved each other."

She could barely understand his mumbled words – but she heard them anyway; she remembered a bonfire in November, and a stolen moment on New Year's Eve – yes, he had said that, and she had, and they knew each other better than anyone else in the world –

"Yes," she choked out. "But," she stammered. "But – do we love each other enough for this?"

He looked over at her, and down at the ominous box in her lap. Staring at it, he felt the full weight of reality crash down on him – how old they were, the stifling smallness of their world, the daunting abyss of their future. It was the first time he doubted their relationship – because it was the first time he saw behind the next Saturday night at the drive in.

She closed her eyes and bent forward, burying her face in her hands. She held herself there a moment, hunched over, making herself small, and then she looked up, turning towards him. The box in her lap tumbled against her knees.

"I don't know what to do," she confessed shakily. "We need to talk," she gasped, "but … I…do we tell our parents first, or decide what to do?"

He lifted his shoulders.

"Decide what?" he asked roughly. He gestured at the box. "It's already decided – we're screwed, we fucked up, Jen!"

She bit her lip hard, and she opened her mouth.

"What if we – went somewhere, first, and then we – wouldn't have to tell them," she started desperately.

"No, Jenny," he interrupted harshly. "No – that girl in Benton _died_ doin' that – "

"It's _legal_ , though," Jenny hissed desperately, "and a doctor – maybe we could sneak to – _Philadelphia_ , or – somewhere nicer – "

"I don't want you to get hurt!" he shouted angrily.

Something awful churned in his gut – he didn't want to mess around with that, not behind closed doors – he was scared, and he didn't want to deal with this, he didn't want it to be real – but he didn't want to take her somewhere and have her death on his hands.

"It costs money," he said desperately. "Jen, I can't get you that kinda money – not in time," he pleaded hoarsely. "Not before everyone noticed anyway."

She licked her lips again, and the idea left her head – the idea terrified her, the thought of something scraping inside of her, getting rid of the evidence – and then she'd have to live with that, and she'd never be able to tell her best friend, or her dad, and it was – it was some secret that was almost too big for her to fathom, in a black moment, she didn't know which was worse – getting rid of it, or having a baby.

"I can't have a baby, Jethro," she said, defeated. Her lips trembled. "I can't even drive a car."

He reached for her, hanging his arms over her shoulders. He tangled his fingers in her long red hair, setting his jaw.

"We got to tell 'em," he said warily. "We got to tell 'em, Jen."

She clutched at his hands, and nodded – she knew that; and maybe then they'd have some guidance – ironically, at this moment that told her she was – she might be – someone's mother – she felt more like a child than ever before; she needed her Dad, even if he disowned her – she needed parents, and she hated that she felt that way.

She took a deep breath.

"I want to tell your parents first," she said earnestly, trying to keep her voice steady. "Your mom – I need your mom. I want your mom to," she seemed to struggle – her own mother was in California; she'd divorced the Colonel when he left the army, and stayed in the last place he'd been stationed. "Your mom is our best bet," she said finally.

Gibbs nodded grimly – he dreaded the disappointed look in his mother's eyes, but Jenny was right; Ann Gibbs would be the gentlest voice, even if her voice was gentle with reproach – and if it was that, it would be all for her own son.

She nodded back, and then she seemed to sag into a heap, leaning forward. Her legs curled towards him, and the jewelry box in her lap toppled to the rocks at their feet. He lunged for it; but the porcelain smashed against the terrain and broke into several pieces; the plastic stick smacked into the dirt – glaring at them.

She gasped, a pained little noise – the jewelry box, brought to her from her father, from France; to remind her of the places she could go.

"My dad," she started, losing and then finding her voice again. "My Dad – is going to be so angry," she said faintly.

He knew she wasn't just talking about the box; she thought it was fitting, that the pretty thing was shattered around the proof of their mistakes, and she buried herself in his arms, there in a nook under the Stillwater covered bridge, and she wished she could go back to a night last summer in the barn, when they'd only ever gone to second base.

* * *

It wasn't a strange scene for Jenny to be loitering near the General Store's cash register as Jackson Gibbs close down the store; he was used to his son's girlfriend lingering as long as possible before running off home to barely make her curfew.

She sat on the counter; Gibbs leaned onto it next to her – neither of them were talking tonight, and Jackson thought it was suspicious that they hadn't been out at all – it was the weekend, after all – but he'd long learned if he tried to question Leroy's behavior, all he was going to get was an annoyed, vague grunt. The boy's mother could get much more out of him.

Ann Gibbs came down the stairs, carrying a box.

"Leroy," she called in her soft, sweet voice. "Come help me re-stock these – "

"I'll help you, Mrs. Gibbs."

Jenny jumped in and offered before Gibbs could straighten up.

Jackson looked over with an arched eyebrow. Gibbs caught Jenny's hand.

"Jen," he hissed, only audible to her.

"Let me go," she murmured back, flushing.

"Should you be - ?"

"I want to talk to _her_ first," Jenny said desperately.

She pulled her hand out of his grasp, and he let her go, swallowing hard. He watched her stride over to his mother and take one of the boxes in her hands.

"You're such a dear, Jennifer – in the back, these candies go so quickly near Easter," Ann remarked lightly.

The boxes were full of differently coloured Peeps candy. Gibbs remembered sneaking a box or two from the store into his room back when he was a kid. He watched Jenny duck behind a row of shelves, and kept staring after them, even when he felt his father approach, glaring at him.

"Leroy," Jackson Gibbs grunted pointedly. "What's the matter with you two?"

Gibbs shrugged, still looking the other direction.

"Look at me when I'm talkin' to you, son," Jackson said quietly.

Gibbs looked at him. His father arched a brow.

"She mad atcha?" Jackson teased. "Havin' your first little lover's spat?"

Gibbs shrugged again. He shook his head silently.

"Then how come you two been hauntin' my store all night, instead of sneakin' off to Crenshaw's barn?" Jackson asked sharply.

Gibbs stared at him, hoping his face didn't show any surprise that his father knew they were always down there in that wide-open valley. He tilted his head stubbornly, and unstuck his jaw.

"Nothin's wrong," he said coolly.

Which was the exact opposite of the truth, but Gibbs wasn't about to out Jenny until she had decided she could handle it – hence the reason they'd waited another _week_ since taking the test to say anything at all. She just hadn't been able to wrap her head around telling anyway, and he hadn't been able to wrap his head around it at all.

It had been a surreal, _absurd_ week at school – both of them acting like everything was normal, and then walking on utter eggshells around each other when they were alone. He didn't want to say anything to make her doubt that he would stick with her, but he was really getting nervous about not doing anything.

"Isn't it about time for her to get home?" Jackson asked.

Gibbs looked over his shoulder at a clock on the wall.

Jenny's curfew, per her father's instructions, was nine on school nights, and ten-thirty when she didn't have school the next day. It was a little after ten. Gibbs had the distinct feeling she'd waited this long because she wanted to be able to run away as quickly as possible – he didn't blame her; he'd be stuck with his parents' reaction no matter what day, what hour.

Once she'd decided on today, it had been a long process of working up the courage – trying to figure out what to say. He hadn't understood why how she phrased it mattered so much – no matter what she said, or he said – _they_ were dead.

"We've got a few extra," Ann said, coming out from the shelves with Jenny at her side. She beamed, and sat two boxes on the table next to Gibbs. "I know you still like them," she added, winking.

He looked down at the two boxes – pink Peeps, and blue Peeps. He looked up at Jenny, and she chewed her lip, standing much closer to Ann than she usually did.

"You want to hang around and push it a little?" Jackson asked Jenny with a wry smile. "I can drive you back home."

"Jackson," Ann said gently. "Jenny and Leroy want to talk to us."

Gibbs met Jenny's eyes; she must have wanted to warn Ann ahead of time. She was obviously more comfortable with Gibbs' mother. Jackson looked immediately at Gibbs, and narrowed his eyes. He said nothing, and then he cleared his throat and gestured to a large wooden table near the center of the store.

Ann patted Jenny's shoulder gently, and went to take a seat, stepping up next to her husband with a look.

"If this is about him wantin' to take her to that damn senior free for all, she's too young – "

"Jack, take a deep breath," Ann murmured.

Gibbs straightened and came around the counter, leaning close to Jenny.

"Did you _tell_ her?" he asked warily, under his breath.

Jenny shook her head, biting her lip.

"No," she whispered back hoarsely. "But she knows."

Gibbs pulled out a chair for Jenny and looked over at his mother as he sat down. She stood behind Jackson, resting her hands soothingly on his shoulders – and he really only had to look at his mother for a minute to see what Jenny meant; there was no curiosity in her eyes, just a soft kind of sadness, worry.

He looked away from her immediately.

Jenny reached for his knee under the table. She'd said she wanted to be the one to tell his parents, but he didn't want her to do that anymore. He rubbed his hand over his mouth.

"Dad – " he started.

"Jethro, don't," Jenny muttered.

She gave him a look.

"You take the heat from my dad, I take it from yours," she reminded him tensely.

Jackson leaned forward.

"Spit it out," he said, his glare on Gibbs, rather than Jenny.

"Mr. Gibbs," Jenny began. "I'm…pregnant."

This time, Jackson did look at Jenny.

His wife's hand tightened pointedly on his shoulder, and Jackson stared at the young girl sitting across from him. He moved his head slightly, as if he hadn't heard, as if he needed it repeated. She bit her lip and shrank away from his gaze.

Jackson quit staring at her in a second. He stood up, reached across the table, and slapped his son firmly in the back of his head.

"What the hell did you do?" he growled.

Gibbs reached up and grabbed the spot on the back of his head, narrowing his eyes.

"I didn't – " he started.

His father slapped him again – a firm knock right at the base of his skull.

"You _didn't_ do this to her?"

Gibbs pushed his chair back out of reach and straightened up defensively.

"It was him," Jenny said, a little unhelpfully – but really with the intention of preserving her reputation - she didn't want Gibbs' father thinking she'd been with _other_ men.

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Gibbs snapped.

He leaned back again, watching his father warily.

"I hope to hell not!" Jackson barked.

"Jack," Ann said calmly. She shook his chair. "Sit back down."

"This ain't the time for sittin', Ann – "

"Sit down," she repeated, forcing him back down into his chair.

Jackson shoved his hand through his short hair and looked up at her.

"You knew about this?" he demanded.

She shook her head. She hadn't – she'd heard the first of it the same moment he did, but when Jenny had said that she wanted to talk to them, Ann couldn't think of anything else that two teenagers would want to sit their parents down about.

Jenny swallowed hard.

"I, um," she started, her voice shaking. "I wanted to tell you…I don't know how long I've been – or anything," she tried to get something coherent out. "It's just – Jethro said he'd tell my Dad, and I didn't want to … put it all on him – "

"It's _on him_ ," Jackson interrupted angrily.

He pointed a sharp finger at Gibbs.

"I told you not to get her into trouble," he snarled. "God dammit, Leroy, you should've been thinkin' with your _head_ – "

"I said it wasn't on purpose!" Gibbs interrupted loudly, thrusting his hand out. "I didn't _want_ to knock 'er up!"

"He didn't – Mr. Gibbs, he didn't make me do anything, and we were, well, we used – "

"I think you'd best start callin' me Jackson, Jennifer," he said to her tensely, "since _he's_ got you in the family way."

She closed her mouth, and her eyes welled up.

Ann left Jacksons' side and dragged a chair up next to Jennifer, reaching out. She put her arms around her gently and took a deep breath.

"I have to be home by ten-thirty," Jenny said weakly.

Ann shook her head.

"I don't think it was the best idea to start this conversation so late, then," she said quietly. "You'll sit here for a bit, Jennifer. Jack," Ann looked up. "Call Chief Shepard," she ordered. "Tell him his daughter is helping me – with baked goods for tomorrow, I'll drive her home by," she paused, looking at them thoughtfully for a moment, "by eleven-thirty."

Her husband stared at her with annoyance for a moment, and then got up stiffly and disappeared to use the phone in the back of the store. Ann watched him a moment, and then turned to her son, still resting her arms around Jenny.

"You deserved to be smacked," she told Gibbs wryly.

She gave him a small, disappointed smile, and he looked down sheepishly. Ann sighed, and pushed Jenny's hair back.

"Please tell me the two of you tried to be careful?" she asked.

Jenny nodded, tears spilling out of her yes.

"Mrs. Gibbs, I _promise_ ," she swore. "I – my father would _murder_ me if I asked for birth control, I'd never get to see Jethro anymore, and I was embarrassed, and I don't know – where or how, but we used – you know, condoms – "

Ann nodded quickly, indicating it was okay if Jenny didn't say any more. She didn't know if they'd just had bad luck, or hadn't been as responsible as they were pretending, but it didn't matter now.

"Leroy?" Ann asked. "You have anything to say?"

He looked at her warily – it felt like he was supposed to have some kind of scripted response to that, and he didn't. He hadn't had anything to say, or known what to do, since the moment she told him she _thought_ she was pregnant.

He shifted and put his hand on Jenny's back protectively.

"I'm not gonna ditch her," he muttered seriously.

Jenny leaned into his touch.

Ann smiled cautiously.

"I would be very disappointed to hear my son say anything else," she said kindly – but she didn't want Leroy thinking this was going to be that simple. She looked between them. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

Jackson re-entered the room.

"Is my father angry?" Jenny asked immediately, her eyes wide. She wiped at her tears.

"No," Jackson said firmly.

The old Colonel hadn't been suspicious at all, and Jackson felt like scum for lying to another parent – especially with something like this on the table. He pulled out a chair and sat back down, lacing his fingers together and looking at the couple.

"They already made their decision, Ann," he said – he'd heard what she said as he came in. "You're gonna get a job, Leroy," he said curtly.

"I got a job," Gibbs said defensively.

"You're gonna get another one," Jackson said. "Babies aren't cheap. And we don't want you quittin' school, either," he said stiffly. "Neither of you – but you're gonna make sure she," he pointed emphatically at Jenny, "gets her diploma."

" _Both_ of their diplomas are important," Ann said sharply. "Jackson," she added, with a hint of authority in her voice. "You don't get to make this decision for them," she added quietly.

"They're not legally old enough to make _any_ decisions!" he retorted loudly. He looked at her a moment, and then shook his head sharply. "We're not takin' this girl to a butcher," he said.

Jenny winced. She closed her eyes.

"Hey," Gibbs burst out suddenly. "Stop talkin' about her like she's not here!"

"It's okay," Jenny said softly.

"No, it's not," barked Gibbs, standing up.

"Stop," snapped Ann. She reached past Jenny, and pushed Gibbs into his seat, and she shot a placating look at her husband. "We aren't making decisions for anyone," she said. "Jennifer's father is likely to want a say in this," she added pointedly.

Jenny put her face in her hands and moaned, dreading the conversation. Her cheeks flushed – her father had her on such a pedestal; he was going to think she was worthless when she told him about this. And – she didn't know what he'd want her to do –she was afraid he'd ban her from ever seeing Gibbs again.

She looked up, licking her lips.

"I want to go home," she said softly. She glanced at Gibbs. "I'm sorry, I – I want to be alone for a little bit."

Ann was the first to nod, and Gibbs shot his father an angry look.

"Do you want to tell your father tonight?" she asked.

Jenny swallowed stiffly, and shook her head.

"No, I – I can't do it again right now," she managed. She blinked, and wiped at her eyes again.

"I'll come over tomorrow," Gibbs spoke up. "Like we, uh – planned. After church."

Jenny chewed on her lip, and Ann stepped in.

"No," she said firmly. "Jennifer?" she asked. "Would you like me to be there with you?" she offered, ignoring her son's _plan_.

Jenny lifted her shoulders – she didn't know.

"I'll take you home tonight, sweetheart," Ann said calmly. "You'll invite your father over to Sunday dinner with us."

"Ann, I don't think you should interfere," Jackson began warily.

She shot him a warning look, and he quieted. She knew the old Colonel, she liked him well enough – he was an honorable man, and a good police chief – but he was proud, and he had a temper, and she wasn't sure she wanted Leroy and Jenny alone with him.

Jenny nodded, and Ann stood, gently coaxing Jenny with her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Gibbs," she said.

Ann smiled again, and led her towards the door, picking up Jackson's keys as she did so.

"Jackson is right," she said kindly. "It's best you call us by our first names."

Jenny wrapped her arms around herself and nodded. She turned, and gave a small wave to Gibbs as she was led out. Gibbs held his hand up, watching her until the General Store's door had closed with a little metallic jingle, and then he turned, projecting more bravado than he actually felt, to face his own father.

* * *

Gibbs scuffed the toe of his shoes against a spot of dirt near the shed, leaning against it as he watched Jenny pace back in forth in front of him. Their parents were _talking_ inside – having drinks before dinner – presumably, the Colonel had no idea his daughter was in trouble, because Gibbs vague hopes that his mother would do the telling were dashed by his father's insistence that Gibbs take it like a man.

"Kinda weird," Gibbs grunted.

She stopped and looked at him, pursing her lips curiously. He grinned a little.

"Church," he snorted. "That preacher, talkin' about how that movie I took you to is…corrupting us."

" _Footloose_ ," Jenny supplied. "It was _Footloose_ ," she said faintly. "Weird?"

"Y'know," he muttered. "'Cause … I corrupted you."

She wrinkled her nose.

"I didn't have sex with you because of Kevin Bacon."

He arched his eyebrow, and then she laughed weakly, biting her lip. Gibbs shrugged.

"Still weird," he repeated. "Bein' in church, when you're …"

"Pregnant?" she said softly. She stepped closer, and put her hands on his waist. "Jethro, you can't even say it."

He didn't answer her. He scuffed his foot again. She licked her lips, and shrugged. She leaned forward and rested her head on his chest.

"I don't like church, anyway," she murmured secretively. "Do you?"

He shrugged.

"Never thought about it," he answered.

He just went because he went. Every Sunday, the Gibbs family went to Church – just like every other family in Stillwater, even the old Jewish couple that owned the deli. She had mentioned not liking it before.

"Don't you think it's stupid?" she asked quietly.

"What?" he asked.

" _Church_ ," she emphasized. "You know … going to hell for not doing everything exactly right? My mom is an atheist," she confided. She chewed her lip, and looked up at him. "You don't think I'm going to hell, do you?"

"Nah," he answered.

She smiled a little.

"I didn't think you'd convince me to sleep with you if you thought it would hurt my soul," she whispered. "You're too good."

He smiled at her. He shrugged. He definitely hadn't been thinking about what God wanted the first time he and Jenny had slept together. She leaned a little closer, and he touched her hip, running his thumb over the bone. She was still wearing her church clothes – a nice, neat, flattering dress.

Her stomach was still flat, toned with youthful thinness.

"What's your Dad gonna do to me?" Gibbs asked finally, his tone wary.

She shook her head, sighing. When she didn't say anything, he tried to cheer her up.

"Think he'll fight my old man on who gets to shoot me?" he joked dryly.

She tilted her head.

"Don't let anyone shoot you," she said. "I don't want to be alone with any of them."

Gibbs snorted.

"Hey, you got my mom," he assured her. He glanced up at the house, thinking of his mother – Ann never dwelt much on people's mistakes; she was all about positive forgiveness, and watching how they moved forward.

"I'm afraid Dad is going to send me to live with mine," Jenny said in a low voice.

Gibbs held her back a little, looking her in the eye.

"He can't send you away," he said gruffly, his eyes flashing. "What about my kid?"

Her eyes widened, and he swallowed hard.

"Oh my _god_ ," she said, burying her face in his chest. The way he said it – so bluntly, the fact that – he was going to have a baby, she was going to have a kid – it felt so startling.

"Jen," he said, swallowing again. "Look – he can't send you away, my Mom – _Jesus_ , you think she'd put up with that?"

If he knew anything, he knew Ann Gibbs would not stand for her grandchild to be raised anywhere she couldn't be involved.

"My mom won't want me," Jenny said softly, crinkling her nose knowingly. "She only likes me in the summer – sister, not mother," she reminded him.

Jenny spent two weeks in the summer with her mother, and two weeks over winter holidays. It was all her mother had asked for in the divorce settlement, and all she seemed willing to put up with – at least when Jenny was younger. She was more interested in her now that she didn't have to be taken care of.

"HEY!"

A shout from the house sounded; Jackson Gibbs standing at the door, waving them in. Jenny stepped away, sighing, and Gibbs pushed off the shed, placing his hand on her lower back as he trudged in after her.

The Gibbs' house was set off behind the General Store and to the east, a little country house with a lot of additions made by Jackson's hand for Ann's benefit. Jenny slipped into the home, and Jackson grabbed Gibbs by the scruff of the neck.

"Didn't you learn your lesson about gettin' cozy?" he hissed, referencing their closeness near the shed.

Gibbs shook him off and gave him an obstinate shrug.

"What's the point now?" he asked smartly.

"Get in the house," growled Jackson, shutting the door behind them both.

"Leroy," the Colonel greeted, reaching out his hand.

"Sir," Gibbs said, shaking the hand firmly and sitting down at the dining room table. He pointedly scooted his chair slightly closer to Jenny's, and glanced at her as Ann came over with a neatly put together bowl of salad.

He arched his eyebrow – Jenny hadn't been able to decide if she wanted to tell him after dinner, or before. Jenny shook her head, and shrugged. She bit her lip nervously, and accepted a glass of lemonade from Ann.

"I was just askin' your parents if you're in some kind of trouble," the old Colonel said to Gibbs, leaning forward. "They tryin' to butter me up to get you off on some Junior-Senior wars crap?"

Gibbs, no stranger to having a few harmless run-ins with the local police force – mostly fighting, or silly pranks – smiled tightly, and shook his head.

"No, sir."

"Hmm," snorted the Colonel. "My daughter's always tellin' me she's a good influence on you. 'M still makin' up my mind about that."

Jenny bit her lip and looked pointedly at her glass of lemonade. She'd never be able to use that argument again – though her father liked Gibbs well enough, he'd liked him less once he started being Jenny's boyfriend rather than just her friend. Although – they had been friends for years before it turned into something else.

Jackson cleared his throat as Ann sat down and looked around.

"May I say grace?" she asked

Jenny looked up.

"No," she said, quite abruptly. "I want to talk first."

Gibbs looked at her, surprised. She turned to him, and lowered her voice.

"Praying makes me feel like a hypocrite," she hissed.

"You don't want to let him have one last meal?" Gibbs retorted without thinking, trying to save himself a few more hours of life.

Jenny bit her lip; Jackson sighed, and put his head in his hands.

Jasper Shepard looked around the table, and straightened up.

"What's going on?" he asked shortly, his eyes narrowing critically.

Something about staring him down, with Gibbs' family in the room, gave Jenny at least a little strength – she was exhausted from acting normal, and pretending everything was okay – and at least if she told him now, maybe Gibbs' mother could calm him down before he could work himself into whatever horrifying reaction was coming.

Gibbs cleared his throat.

"Sir," he began – wondering if this was how Jenny had felt when she stared down his parents. "Sir, Jenny's – "

"I'm pregnant," she said hoarsely, cutting him off. "I got pregnant."

Gibbs clamped his mouth shut.

Jasper Shepard's eyes moved slowly to his daughter, and he looked her over, as if he hadn't heard what she had said. She watched his silent observation, holding her breath, and she leaned forward earnestly.

"Daddy," she began. "I said – "

He held up his hand.

"I heard you, Jennifer," he said, in a dangerously quiet voice.

He sat back, his hands resting stiffly on the table. He clenched them into fists. A very quick, subtle glance at both of Gibbs' parents told him they had already been informed, and he grit his teeth. For a proud man like the Colonel – being the last to know, in a room full of people who did, was a very undesirable turn of events.

Jenny reached for Gibbs' hand under the table and squeezed it. He tried to think quickly, tried to think of something to say to – save her, or make the situation even a little bit more bearable.

"I have a job, Chief," he said quickly, his voice determined. "I – " he stopped. He didn't want to say he loved Jenny in front of everyone - -but maybe the Colonel would like hearing that?

Shepard didn't even look at Gibbs, though.

"You damn well better have a job," he said coldly.

Neither of Gibbs' parents spoke up for him. Jackson cleared his throat, a piercing glare on his son. Ann reached out to touch Jenny's hand.

"We thought it best if we had a chance to discuss this," she began.

Shepard pushed his chair back, flexing his hands.

"I appreciate that, Ann," he said curtly. He stood. "If you don't mind, I'll be taking my daughter home."

He straightened his shoulders and looked at her pointedly, waiting for her to get up. She opened her mouth, and then closed it, squeezing Gibbs' hand under the table again. Ann stood up, swooping in with a placating look. She placed her hand on the Colonel's shoulder.

"Jasper," she said smartly, "We aren't – exactly _happy_ with Leroy, either," she said frankly. "I want you to know that we like Jennifer very much, and we don't think less of her – "

"Thank you," Shepard said stonily, interrupting. "Jennifer," he said sharply. "Get up."

It didn't seem Ann's gentle words changed his mind. Jennifer got up, licking her lips. She took a deep breath and avoided Gibbs' parents' eyes, and she gave him a scared look. He looked unreadable enough that she composed herself a little.

"Ann, Jackson," she said shakily. "Thank you for dinner."

Her words felt silly, since no one had actually eaten a thing. Her father waited stoically, and then pointed her towards the door. He turned to Jackson Gibbs, nodded curtly, and slipped out of Ann's grasp, all without looking at his daughter's boyfriend.

Ann sat down heavily, and leaned over to touch her son's hand.

"You can't blame him too much," she said.

Jackson Gibbs snorted, and gave his son a reprimanding, cold glare.

"You're lucky that man didn't tar and feather you on the spot."

Gibbs got up and left the table, pushing his chair aside violently, and Ann shot a mildly annoyed look at her husband, and put her hand to her forehead tiredly.

* * *

She had never felt so along and so uncomfortable in her own house.

Her father hadn't spoken to her on the short drive home – they lived in a spacious, very nice home in more rustic, historical part of town – nearer to the main roads so Shepard could more easily get to the County police station for work.

He'd chosen Stillwater to retire in, when he'd left the military and sought out the police Chief position, because he'd grown up here, and he loved Pennsylvania.

The Colonel slammed the door when they got to the house, and he pointed to the living room.

"Sit," he ordered.

She felt like he was back in the military, and she'd inadvertently signed up for boot camp. She swallowed and sat down, wildly wishing she'd refused to leave and stayed at Gibbs' house. Her father's quiet rage wasn't what she had expected; it was worse.

He made noise in the kitchen, and she guessed he was in there pouring himself a stiff drink. She felt like she sat on that couch forever, staring at the fireplace, when he finally came in and stood in front of her, his hands behind his back.

"You're pregnant?" he asked curtly.

She wrapped her arms around herself.

"Yes…sir," she said, her eyes stinging.

"How long have you known?" he demanded levelly.

She licked her lips.

"A week," she said definitely – she didn't tell him she'd been worrying for a month. He'd probably put a belt to her if he knew she'd been impractical enough to _wait_ to confirm.

"You chose to tell me this in front of Leroy's parents?" he asked sharply. "You chose to tell his parents first?"

"Dad," she began hoarsely, desperately. "I was scared – "

"You're damn right you were scared," he interrupted.

He looked at her stonily, his face harsh and unforgiving. Then, he put his hand to his face, and he moved to sit down in an armchair, leaning forward heavily on his knees.

"You are fifteen years old, Jennifer," he said roughly.

She bit the inside of her cheek, and nodded.

"I know," she said quietly. "I'll be … sixteen in a month."

"You think sixteen is old enough to have a baby?"

She fell silent. Of course she didn't. But she hadn't meant to get pregnant.

"I told you he was too old for you."

"He's barely a year older than me, Daddy!" she burst out, annoyed. "And we've known each other since you took me out of Benton!"

When her father had first retired, and they'd moved back to Stillwater, she had been going to school in one of the other County areas. She hadn't liked it; she'd wanted to switch – it was in seventh grade, that she'd moved, and met Gibbs.

"I knew he would be trouble," Shepard said harshly. "You let him turn your head – let him ruin your future – "

"It's not like he _raped_ me!" she yelped defensively.

She sucked in her breath and bit her lip – she didn't know which was worse: letting her father think Gibbs had manipulated her, or telling him she'd wanted it just as much.

The Colonel looked at her sharply, and then gave a stiff nod – he had to acknowledge that. She felt herself crash down from her pedestal instantly, and she felt like he was looking down at her from a great height.

"Jennifer," he said angrily, but quietly. "You were supposed to go to college – you didn't want to stay here for the rest of your life – "

"My life isn't that destroyed, it's _not_ – I can still –"

"You get something straight right this second, Jennifer Shepard," her father interrupted harshly, " _your_ life, from this moment, comes unequivocally second to an infant. Your life is no longer _your_ life. It belongs," he said firmly, jerking his thumb at her middle, "to that baby."

She bit her lip so hard; she drew blood. She colour drained from her face. She knew that – she had known that, in an abstract way, since the moment she saw the positive test – but _he_ had put it into words.

Her father was looking at her seriously, and he moved his jaw tensely, arching his brows.

"Unless you were planning on something different?" he asked icily. "I had assumed if you were going to get rid of it, you would go behind my back with Gibbs."

"I," she started, stammering. "I – Dad, I didn't want to go behind – I thought I'd ask _you_ what to do. I need you to tell me – "

"I told you not to get in any trouble," he interrupted. "You _blew_ me off. You acted rashly. You got yourself pregnant. You thought you were old enough to handle this, clearly – "

"I'm not, I didn't think that!" she cried desperately. "I didn't want this to happen!"

"You shouldn't be having sex if you're not old enough or prepared enough to deal with the consequences," he said flatly.

"Not everyone who has sex gets pregnant – "

"Considering your situation, Jennifer, that argument is completely irrelevant."

He couldn't seem to let her finish a sentence. He put his hands together and fell silent again, and then he stared at her.

"What did you think I would tell you to do?" he asked quietly.

She pushed her hair back, and shook her head.

"I _thought_ you'd kill Jethro," she said in a small voice. "He said – I mean, he said he'd marry me," she laughed hysterically.

"You are _fifteen_ years old."

"Dad, I know – will you stop reminding me how old I am?" she asked harshly. "I don't want to get married – I don't want any of this. I still want to go to college, I _still_ want to get out of this town – "

"You should have thought about that before you ruined your life," her father said mechanically.

"There's _nothing_ to do in this small town!" she yelled. "Maybe you shouldn't have settled down in some hillbilly place when I spent the first years of my life moving around with you!"

He considered her silently.

He considered her for such a long time, she wondered if he'd forgotten she was there at all. She wanted nothing more than to lock herself in her room, and call Jethro, and cry for hours. She wondered what his parents were doing to him right now.

"If you think boredom is an excuse for this," he began finally, his voice low, "you are not the girl I thought I raised."

"Dad," she said hoarsely, her voice cracking.

Tears started slipping down her cheeks. He cleared his throat.

"Are you going to ask me to let you get an abortion?" he asked, ignoring her.

She bit her lip. She remembered her panicked conversation with Gibbs by the bridge, Gibbs' father, insisting they wouldn't take her to a _butcher_ – even with it right in front of her, she didn't know if it was a real option. She didn't feel like it was.

He misinterpreted her silence.

"I will not pay for it," he said flatly. "I will not allow Ann and Jackson Gibbs to pay for it. You will get that boy to pay for it, or you will pay for it."

"I don't have a job," she said weakly, too confused about her feelings to answer the real question.

The look on his face said everything: that was the point. She was fifteen, and pregnant – she couldn't fathom paying for an abortion; how could she imagine having a child.

"They're – they're – seven hundred dollars," she said huskily. "I can't – Gibbs said he can't make that much, before – "

There were restrictions, on how late you could get them – and she didn't even know how far along she was. She felt sick, felt like she couldn't breathe; she didn't think she wanted to do it. She just didn't – the thought scared her. She didn't want to have a baby – but, she did love Gibbs, and – it had happened to people before.

"I don't much like the idea of you taking the easy way out of your mistakes," her father said, with a careless shrug.

She compressed her lips, and lowered her eyes, looking down at her hands.

"I can't believe you think that would be easy," she whispered unhappily.

She stared at her hands for a long time, and then she looked up.

"I think I need you to take me to a doctor," she said vaguely, softly. "Maybe the test was wrong?"

Her father stood up. She felt him glaring at her; she knew he thought her statement was stupid, and she shrank away.

"I think you should go to bed," he said tiredly. "I'll speak with you in the morning," he paused, "and you'll call your mother in the morning."

She swallowed hard.

"I have school," she said.

He shook his head slightly.

"You'll be out for the next few days," he said curtly. "While we discuss this."

She stared at him as he left the room. She heard him in the kitchen again, and she looked around uncertainly – she figured she was free to go, and he hadn't told her not to leave the room. She bit her lip and got up, heading for the stairs.

"Jennifer," he called mildly from the kitchen.

She paused on the staircase, listening.

"I hope that boy means it when he says he's going to take care of you," Shepard said tightly. "Your life is about to get very hard."

She stood frozen to the spot for a moment, and then she forced herself up the stairs. She closed her bedroom door tightly, reached for her phone, and breathed in deeply a few times while she dialed his number, praying he answered instead of one of his parents – she had to tell him she wouldn't be in school, and she didn't know what her father was going to do – or make her do – or what _they_ were going to do.

* * *

Columbia County's Chief of Police was getting into his squad car when Gibbs walked up his drive, and seeing the boy, he paused, leaning on the car. He held his keys in his hand, scrutinizing the kid intently. He was impressed that Gibbs didn't look away – it was gutsy, or maybe just a little stupid.

"I brought her homework," Gibbs said, without greeting.

It was Thursday; her father had kept her out of school for three days, and Gibbs' parents, after speaking with him on the phone, had told him sharply to stay away and not interfere until the Colonel allowed it.

Being a little rash, and bull-headed, today Gibbs had decided to ignore that. Jenny was smart, the top of her class – he didn't want her to fall behind because of him.

Shepard looked at the books under his arm, and nodded curtly. He knew his daughter had been calling Gibbs, and he knew she'd told him that they'd gone to a doctor in Scranton. He didn't say anything about that; it was Jennifer's right to tell him.

"You can go in," he said finally. He gave the kid a dry smirk. "I'd worry about leaving the two of you alone, but you can't do any more damage."

Without another word, the Colonel waved Gibbs aside, and got into his car – leaving him in the driveway. Gibbs watched him leave, and then let himself into the house – Jenny was always trusted to be alone on the days when her father worked night shift; she'd taken advantage of that trust.

He went upstairs and knocked on her door. He waited, knocked again, and then she answered, and he opened it. She was laying in bed with her back to him, and he came in and placed her books on the table.

"Brought your homework," he said quietly, clearing his throat.

She turned over, and sat up, pushing her hair back. She looked tired, and her eyes were red, and she was dressed in a Army t-shirt, and cotton shorts. She drew one knee up and rubbed it, smiling at him shakily.

He put his hands in his pockets.

"Are people talking?" she asked. "At school?"

He shook his head, and shrugged.

"Why would they? Just figure you're sick," he said.

Their parents sure as hell weren't spreading rumors, and since Jenny hadn't even told her best friend – there was no way anything had gotten around – yet. He stared at her in silence for a moment, then looked down at the books, and clenched his teeth.

"Your dad, uh – took you to some … specialist?" he ventured. He looked up." In Scranton?" he prompted.

She licked her lips and inhaled slowly, nodding.

"I wanted to, um, find out, some things," she said tiredly. "You know … and he … he was on that case, with the girl who got an illegal one, and died, and he knows there's a good doctor," she trailed off.

She pushed her hair back.

"He made me tell my mom; she said she'd pay for it…. He didn't want," she broke off again, frustrated.

"What did your mom say?" Gibbs muttered.

Jenny laughed weakly.

"She was shocked but … she said that's what happens to small town girls," she told him, rolling her eyes. "I wish she cared more."

Gibbs nodded. He came closer, and leaned against her desk. He finally looked up at her.

"You…okay?"

She swallowed hard a few times, and when she finally opened her mouth, he could barely hear her.

"I didn't do it," she choked. "I couldn't – it's still early enough, but I just," she shook her head, closing her eyes tightly. "I couldn't. I was too scared. I know that sounds insane, because we can't … I don't want a baby but … I didn't want _that_ , either. And maybe it would be easier, but my Dad … he can't look at me, and he didn't want me to, I know, and I just …" she stopped, and tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling. "It might not be so bad, right?" she asked desperately.

Gibbs clenched and unclenched his fist, watching her.

"My, uh, parents," he started, "they – didn't like that idea, either," he admitted.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, he didn't either. Even if his knee-jerk reaction was to wish it all away – he didn't think, and she didn't think, that there had ever been any real question of what they were going to do. This was a small town, and the values were conservative, and _it_ just wasn't something girls in trouble did – not now.

She lowered her head, and shrugged.

"Dad says I can't get married until I have a diploma," she said in a small voice. "I have to get a job – I don't think he'll be much help, but your Mom – I don't know, maybe your mom can help and, um – "

Gibbs moved closer. He sat next to her on her bed and put his arm around her, shaking his head.

"Shh," he muttered thickly. "Jen, we'll just – we'll figure it out," he said hoarsely – he didn't believe himself, but he said it anyway.

"He might try to make me go live with my mother," she said, wiping at her eyes. "I don't want to be alone, Jethro – "

"Jen, he won't," Gibbs said. "He can't – my Mom'll talk him out of that," he said dryly. "She's already … accepted it, you know how she is. She _wants_ the damn thing."

"It's not a _thing_ ," Jenny whispered.

He nodded.

"My father is going to take you to court," she admitted softly. "He's not – it's not against your family … he just … even if he trusts your family, thinks you're okay, he wants support in writing."

Her face flushed. Gibbs didn't say anything – he didn't know anything about that, but it sounded like something his father would agree to, as well. He wanted to say that didn't matter, he'd do what he had to, anyway. He wasn't ready to be a father – he wasn't ready for anything about adulthood, but he wouldn't abandon Jenny.

"I'm done with school next year," he said gruffly. "You know I been thinkin' about joinin' the Marines, that'll support you, then we can get married when you're out – and then, you know, that G.I. bill, you can still go to college – "

"I don't want you to go away," she broke in. "I'll still be in high school, and then I'll really be alone – and you could _die_ – "

"Jen, I got to do somethin' – "

"Can we just talk about that later?" she asked desperately.

She had always thought his idea of joining the Marines, of using that to get out of Stillwater, away from his hard-to-please father, was romantic; she liked men in uniform, she'd like it if he did that, and she'd meet him all over the world when she was done with college – but all of that seemed silly now.

She leaned into him, and repeated what she'd said in the barn, weeks ago:

"I'm so scared, Jethro."

He rested his forehead against hers, tightening his grip.

"Nothing's ever going to be the same," she whimpered.

"I'm gonna take care of you, Jenny," he swore.

She reached out for him, curling her body into his.

"I'm ruined," she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut – she felt that way when her father looked at her, when he spoke to her – when she thought of how her life would be from now on.

He shook his head.

"I don't think you're ruined," he said huskily.

She shifted her head and kissed him on the lips, her eyes still closed – maybe in a few days, she could get a better grip on this, on herself. He thought maybe once it had calmed down, and settled in, they could plan – but he didn't really know what was going to happen, and neither did she; the only thing that was certain was that their lives were going to change, and in a few months, the whole town would have something to whisper about it.

* * *

 **"Yeah these days, the rabbit doesn't die;**  
 **You just sit around waitin' on two pink lines."**  
 **-Eric Church; Two Pink Lines**

* * *

 _-so, what this story will be is four "parts" each five chapters each (the last one MAY need six, or at least a stand alone epilogue). some of my readers voted to do it this way so they could get the story quicker. this is the first part: a.k.a. "Stillwater High." that was the working title and i never really came up with a better one. feedback is super appreciated, as always - but especially on this!_

 _-alexandra_

 _p.s. - this story is really ushering in a new era ... i graduate from college today!_

 _story#262_


	2. Young and Wild

_a/n: i've realized as i've been writing this more - it's structured a lot like Mishpokhe (though shorter) with its periodic and habitual time jumps, so keep that in mind. i'll clarify best as i can at the beginning of every chapter._

* * *

 **Stillwater, Pennsylvania: 1984**

 **Young and Wild**

* * *

There was a dirty white t-shirt hanging from a rung of the ladder that led up to the barn loft, but today, neither of its usual occupants were up there. The floor of the barn was just as far away from prying eyes as the loft - in fact, old man Crenshaw – Gibbs' boss – seemed about the only one in town who was unfazed by a little scandal.

Gibbs wiped a rag across his brow and sat down on a blanket next to Jenny, grateful for an afternoon break from the sweltering heat. He'd worked so much these past three weeks, while she was in California on a mandated visit to her mother, that he'd done things the old farmer hadn't even known he needed done.

But Crenshaw paid him, and that was what he needed – as much money as he could possibly hide away, so he could feel like he was living up to what he needed to be. He didn't care as much as Jenny did about the eyes on them, but he cared about impressing her father, and sticking it to his own.

Jenny pushed her hair back, handing him a bottle of water.

"You're sunburned," she remarked.

She crawled forward and gave him a hug – she hadn't seen him alone since the airport. He put his arms around her and smiled, taking a deep breath. He shrugged a little, and she pulled away and kissed him quickly.

"Keep forgettin' to put sunscreen on," he grunted.

She ran her hand over his bare arm and then pressed her palm against his chest, smiling a little.

"You have a farmer's tan," she noted, wrinkling her nose. She gave him a look through her lashes. "Why don't you just work with your shirt _off_?"

He smirked at her, and opened the bottle of water, giving her a nod of thanks for bringing it. He was glad her father had let her come down here – sometimes, the Colonel liked to pretend he was medically concerned for her to keep her as locked up as possible – discipline, he said.

Jenny sat back and pushed her hair back again, lifting her shoulders.

"So," she started, biting her lip. "Do I look different?"

He lowered the water bottle, scrutinizing her. He didn't know what she wanted him to say. She didn't look much different than she had when she left – but her being away for almost a month did make it a little more obvious that she was pregnant, because before that he'd just been used to seeing her every day.

He shrugged.

"You look fine," he promised her.

She sighed, and frowned a little, running her hand over herself. She looked up, sighed again, and shrugged – she tried not to think about it so much. She tried to compartmentalize it – mostly because now, she'd moved past the shock of being pregnant, and she was in a strange sort of limbo – a limbo where she didn't have a baby…yet.

"How was California?" Gibbs asked.

He reached for the bag she had – the same bag she always carried, and rooted around inside; he knew she'd have stopped by the General Store to pick him up a sandwich, or some fudge or something from his mother. He found it quickly, and grinned at her.

Jenny tilted her head back and forth.

"Nice," she said, surprised to admit it – she usually didn't like being with her mother; as much as she didn't like small town Stillwater, she didn't like being ignored by her mother, either, and at least here she had Jethro.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

"She was, you know, nice to me," Jenny muttered, shrugging a little. "She kept saying things mothers are _supposed_ to say – you know, how I shouldn't have been so stupid, and how it was really irresponsible of me – but she didn't seem to care too much," Jenny explained. She paused a moment. "She's right outside of San Francisco, you know."

Gibbs nodded.

"The people there are really…progressive," Jenny said. "No one really stared at me. And she," Jenny bit her lip a moment. "She bought me stuff, clothes, and stuff for … the baby."

Gibbs arched his eyebrows, swallowing his food.

"Really?" he asked gruffly.

That was something Jenny _definitely_ wasn't getting from her father – his deal was he'd take care of medical bills for her and the baby – easy enough, for someone with Army benefits, and he'd provide her a place to live, but she had to make money for the frivolous things and the things the baby needed.

He was having her babysit for money – which she didn't complain about, it was logical – and Gibbs was working his ass off; it was a surprise to hear that someone had taken mercy on them – someone besides Gibbs' mother, who was trying to do it without being too subversive to Jackson Gibbs or Jasper Shepard.

Gibbs tilted his head at her.

"Your Dad doesn't want you to stay there, does he?" he asked warily.

Jenny laughed hoarsely.

"Not anymore," she snorted. "Not after I came back with – onesies, and some cloth diapers – my mom said that will be cheaper – and little shoes, and some new clothes for myself."

Jenny licked her lips, rolling her eyes sarcastically.

"He thinks I'd have too much fun," she said tensely. "My mother isn't—you know, condescending enough, and punishing enough, and disappointed enough," she lashed out. "God forbid he lighten up. It's not as if I'm going to be having any fun with a baby. I could use some – "

She broke off, and shrugged, flushing a little. She swallowed hard and shook her head.

"Never mind," she muttered.

He shrugged.

"I don't care if you bitch about your old man," he told her bluntly.

He understood where she was coming from – her father seemed to be as satisfied as he was ever going to be with Gibbs' show of working and committing to Jenny, but Gibbs' own father hadn't lightened up, either. He'd taken to coming into Gibbs' room in the middle of the night and waking him up, just to simulate what it would be like to have a baby.

Jenny smiled at him, and pulled her bag towards her.

"I know you don't," she said.

She started rummaging through her bag, but she didn't look away from him. She seemed hesitant, and then she pulled an envelope out, and she held it to her chest, compressing her lips.

"My mom … she took me to a fancier doctor, one with a lot of new stuff?" she started nervously. "She gave me a better estimate of when – I'll have the baby."

Gibbs brushed his hands off on his jeans and leaned forward, listening carefully – Jenny had been seeing a doctor in Scranton for the whole summer, a different one than she'd first seen – it was the same woman Ann Gibbs had seen when she was pregnant. However, the nuances of ultrasound technology weren't available all over yet, and most small town people still thought of it as a luxury that was only needed if something was wrong.

"Dad thinks it's frivolous and it's a privilege I shouldn't have," she said, rolling her eyes - she tried to play if off like it hadn't hurt her feelings when her father had shown no emotion when she had showed him. She pulled the ultrasound photo out of the envelope. She'd been excited to see the photo, despite herself and all the stress it would bring, and she'd hoped her father would take a moment to let her be happy.

"Here," she said, moving closer, and handing it over.

Gibbs looked at the photo in her hand for a moment, and then he scooted over, taking it gingerly. He lowered is eyes, and she snuggled up to him, despite the sweltering August heat, and pointed.

"It's easier to see what it looks like now," she murmured. "This was when I first got to California – that doctor said I'm six months. That means November, but probably later than we thought," she narrated, tracing the outline with her finger.

Jenny fell silent, and looked up, watching Gibbs take it in. His jaw was set stiffly as he stared, and he seemed to be really concentrating. He sensed her gaze, and glanced at her, his lips turning up a little.

"Not as tiny," he remarked.

She nodded. She touched his arm.

"You know how I used to say, the few times they showed me, she looked like a bug? Or something little? Well - ?"

"She?" Gibbs interrupted.

He turned sharply and stared at her, raising his eyebrows.

Jenny nodded slowly.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "The doctor said she could make a _really_ educated guess, because of the new technology," she chewed on her lip for a moment, "and, she said it's a girl, probably."

Gibbs looked back at the picture, his eyebrows going up slowly. It looked so blurry to him – he couldn't see anything, and he wasn't really sure what he was supposed to feel – but he understood the word girl. He swallowed hard, and turned back to Jenny.

"A girl?" he repeated.

She nodded hesitantly.

"Is that okay?" she asked.

Gibbs lifted his shoulders. He nodded, tilting his head. He hadn't really thought much about it. She misinterpreted his silence, and she grabbed his shoulder.

"It's not for sure," she said quickly. "It might – it's so blurry, and the technology is so new," she placated. "But it's kind of neat to have an idea – "

"You tell my mom?" Gibbs asked, cutting her off. He held up the photo. "Jen, she'd be really excited for you."

Jenny smiled, pressing her lips together.

"I wanted to tell you first," she said quietly. She wrinkled her nose. "Aren't you excited for me?" she asked a little dryly.

He arched his eyebrows, and she burst out laughing, taking the photo back and resting her head on his shoulder. She stared at it thoughtfully, her grin fading just a little, and she traced her finger around it.

"I mean," she began bravely, "I'm a girl, so at least I know what to do with a girl."

Gibbs snorted, and gave a protracted groan. He put a hand to his forehead, cringing a little.

"I don't know shit about girls," he muttered.

Jenny laughed again. She sat up, and held the photo in her lap, looking over at him.

"Like I was saying," she said carefully, getting his attention again. "I was thinking, since I used to keep saying she was like a little – moth, or gnat or something," she trailed off, biting her tongue anxiously. "I think I might call her Nat. Like, Natalie."

Gibbs turned to face her, looking at her intently. It was one of those moments when things started to feel very real, and it was overwhelming. He went through days where it was something that lingered in the back of his mind – _that he was going to have a kid_ – and he went through days where he faced it head on and was terrified.

"Do you like it?" Jenny ventured.

He smiled a little.

"It's pretty," he grunted.

She sighed, and her face fell.

"I wish we were talking about anything else," she said.

Her pretense of optimism faded, and she put her head in her hands, taking a few deep breaths. She swallowed hard, trying not to cry – she had been so good at not crying lately; she'd gotten a lot of it out of her system back when she first got pregnant.

Her life had felt so much lighter in California – she was away from everyone in the town talking about her, whispering about her, giving her funny looks; she was able to convince herself she was escaping just for a little while, and it had been nice, even though she had missed Jethro.

She looked up, pushing her hair back.

"Betsy Carmichael keeps calling me a tramp to her stupid Sunday school friends," she lashed out, her voice cracking. "A tramp, Jethro!" She licked her lips. "And I know she's had sex with two football players, but _she_ didn't get pregnant and no one _knows_ , so it doesn't matter!"

Gibbs blinked at her, and shrugged.

"Who gives a damn what that cheerleader thinks?" he growled defensively.

"Everyone," Jenny said sullenly.

That's how it felt, at least – back in April, and May, when they'd still been keeping things quiet, nothing had really been different - but somehow, people had started to find out, and whisper, even though Gibbs' and Jenny's fathers had decided it was best to just never explicitly confirm. She was glad that school had ended when she started to show a little – but she dreaded starting up again in September.

Gibbs shrugged again, annoyed – no one was calling him names, not that he knew of. He was working too much to know – and he never had hung around with many of the guys at school, anyway. He had always kind of kept to himself.

Jenny put the photo away, and wiped at her eyes shakily, pushing her hair back again – it was a nervous habit. She took a slow breath, and then looked at him, her eyes wary.

"Can I tell you something awful?" she asked in a hushed tone.

He simply nodded, wondering what could possibly be awful about her.

She bit her lip hard, and she was quiet for so long, he thought she'd changed her mind. Then she looked down, her hair falling over her shoulder to shield her face, and she swallowed tensely.

"Sometimes I wish I'd have a miscarriage," she whispered hoarsely, "because then it would all be over … but it wouldn't be my fault. And I'd never have to think about it again."

Gibbs stared at her for a long time, uncertain what to say. He didn't want to tell her that he thought the same thing, because he was supposed to be the stronger one, the rock. He didn't want to sound despicable – he knew his mother would cross herself twice for even thinking such a thing – but sometimes, he wanted out as much as she did, and he couldn't control his thoughts, either.

He cleared his throat gruffly. All he said was –

"I don't think that's awful."

She pushed her hair behind her ear and gave him a wry, tearful look.

"My dad's right," she admitted. "I'm selfish. I don't know how I'm going to do this … and then sometimes, I get kind of excited, and I feel so stupid – "

He nodded. There were days when he just accepted he was going to have a kid, and he shrugged his shoulders at it and thought he should just let it be – and those days, he acted a little too carefree, and he usually got a good reminder of a smack from his father.

Jenny rubbed her nose.

"We can do this, right, Jethro?" she asked. She gestured at her abdomen hesitantly. "Just lie, if you don't think so," she added, laughing tiredly.

He moved closer, and put his arm around her. He nodded, pressing a kiss to her jaw gingerly, and resting his forehead against her temple.

"I don't think anyone knows how to take care of kids," he muttered brashly.

Jenny laughed hoarsely. She leaned into him heavily. He grunted, arching his brow.

"Hey, I get any say in – uh, her name?" he asked, putting some effort into taking steps forward, making it sound like he was confidently ready to do this, when the time came.

Jenny nodded, sucking in her breath.

"Sure, you can pick her middle name," she teased lightly.

Gibbs grinned. He reached out to push her hair back, and he fell silent, watching her close her eyes and compose herself. They sat there a moment, and then a shadow fell over them – old Farmer Crenshaw cleared his throat, squinting.

"Leroy, you get back in that field, if yer wantin' to hightail it outta here before dark," he ordered gruffly.

He was a stern old man with a soft heart – and he spared an intent, calm look for Jenny. He held up the cane in his hand, and then beckoned, giving her the barest hint of a wink.

"My chickens hatched some little 'uns the other day," he said gruffly. "You come with me, squeal over 'em like you girls do," he suggested, turning, leaving it up to her to follow. "I get the feelin' you'd like to spend some time away from Chief," he muttered knowingly.

Jenny smiled at his back, and Gibbs stood, extending his hand to help her up. She grabbed her bag, deciding to take Crenshaw up on his offer, and she watched Gibbs grab his t-shirt and slip it back on, cracking his knuckles before he got back out in the heat – to whatever he was helping with. She glanced up at the loft they'd spent so much time in, and bit her lip; her shoulders felt heavy, and she wondered which clandestine, stolen moment, had been the one that changed everything.

* * *

Gibbs stood against the cab of his old red truck, blinking in the sunny parking lot. He was a week into his senior year of high school, just turned seventeen, and waiting for the last bell to ring so he and Jenny could leave these first five days of hell behind them.

He had a free period, but Crenshaw didn't need him so much anymore – except on weekends, and for odd jobs that he kept coming up with just to help – and he didn't have to work today. He'd had to work every other day, so at least this time he could whisk Jenny away and save her the drama of having to walk home with crowds of kids whispering about it.

He picked at his nails, looking up when he heard the bell. It took barely a minute for kids to start pouring out of the school, and he waited patiently for her to arrive.

"Tradin' in that truck for a minivan soon, Gibbs?" called one of the guys in Gibbs' shop class.

Gibbs looked up and shrugged.

"Figured we'd just throw the kid in the bed," he retorted sharply, his face unreadable – he refused to take shit from his peers, but the thing was, they hardly ever gave him any – he got treated like a hero half the time; Jenny was the one they teased and mocked.

"Somebody told me her Daddy's gonna duel you, winner gets to keep 'er," another kid joked, lighting up a cigarette as he stood next to Gibbs. He grinned. "Think you can beat Chief Shepard in an old fashioned gunfight?"

Gibbs gave him a cool look.

"Think it's pretty clear who left their mark on Jenny," he drawled.

The guy punched him in the arm, laughing.

"Ay," called another, giving Gibbs' truck a wistful look and then leaning up against it – he was a someone Gibbs knew, lived in the house over from the General Store. "Good thing about it is, you _always_ get to ride 'er bareback now, eh? Nothin' to worry about!"

Gibbs lunged forward at that one and grabbed him by the collar, giving him a threatening glare.

"I hear you talkin' about her like that again –"

"Easy, man, easy!"

The kid with the cigarette put it out and snatched Gibbs' victim, giving him an annoyed look.

"Whatsamatter with you, Chuck? You don't talk about some guy's girl like that, _Christ_."

Chuck brushed off his shirt, straightening it, and gave Gibbs a nasty look.

"She always seemed like an easy piece of work, anyway," he threw out.

"It's funny," a female voice said, loud and cheerful, "how people keep calling you a slut, Jenny," the boys turned, and there stood Jenny, her face drawn tight, at the side of her best friend – a vivacious, black-haired little thing, "when, you know, sluts are so good at gettin' around, they know how to _not_ get knocked up."

Alison Flynn stood there with a neatly tilted head, blinking sweetly at the group. Chuck shrugged off her comment, shoved his hand in his pockets, and went off with his buddies; Jenny looked after them, and then after a moment, rolled her eyes and shoved her best friend, knocking her math book to the gravel.

"God, Alison," she groaned, rolling her eyes. "That's not the greatest defense. It's like, Jenny's a slut, just not a good one."

Alison laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

"You're right," she patronized. "A good slut would be much more cautious – she'd definitely know that letting her boyfriend open a condom with his teeth probably tore a hole in it – "

"Oh, shut up," muttered Jenny, elbowing her again. "You're lecturin' me – you're a _virgin_."

"Mmm-hmm," Alison said smugly. "And recent developments in your life have persuaded me to hang on to that bit of my character for a while longer."

Jenny flushed, and Gibbs picked up Alison's math book, handing it to her silently. She thanked him, and sighed, flexing her hand a little before she hugged the book to her chest.

"You want a lift?" Gibbs asked her.

"Nah," Alison sighed. "Levi Rosenthal offered me a ride home," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. She turned to Jenny. "Are you guys gonna come to Chuck's bonfire tomorrow night? Kick off the school year?" she asked brightly.

"Work," Gibbs grunted.

Jenny chewed her lip. She shook her head reluctantly.

"I doubt Dad will let me out," she said glumly.

Alison smiled a little sympathetically, and tilted her head.

"Okay," she said. "I'm going, because Josh Carter asked me to go with him, and he's got a cute hound dog – but can I come over and hang out, during the day?"

Alison was a pro at pretending everything was the same; she wasn't ignoring the change in Jenny's life, but she was stalwartly refusing to let it change how she acted towards her best friend, and Gibbs was grateful to her for it. He liked to see Jenny smile when Alison offered to hang out.

"Yeah," Jenny said softly. "Yeah, we can watch MTV or something."

"Well, I don't know about that," Alison said, deadpan. "Those rock videos might convince girls to start having sex."

With that, she walked off, sparing only a moment to shoot a wry look over her shoulder, and then smirk. Jenny grinned, and shook her head, moving closer to Gibbs. He automatically took her book bag, and the slouchy purse she always carried with her.

"She's saving my life," Jenny admitted.

Gibbs reached out and pulled her towards him, dropping her stuff to his feet and hanging his arms loosely around her middle.

"This week sucked," she moaned, hitting her forehead lightly against his chest. She took a deep breath, let it out, and then muttered a few choice swear words. He nodded; he hadn't enjoyed it, either, and he didn't like school under normal circumstances.

"Ms. Booker gave me a lecture," he told her dully.

Jenny looked up, her eyes widening.

"Oh _no_."

Ms. Booker was their seventy-year-old health teacher – the health teacher who'd taught abstinence only for as long as the word abstinence had existed.

"What did she _say_?" Jenny asked, wincing – it was a junior class; she hadn't had it yet – in fact, since she'd have it next semester, she'd be the elephant in the classroom, since she'd have a baby.

Gibbs grinned.

"Asked me why I thought I was better than God's natural protection," he snorted – it had been a little more than that, but it was basically a second lecture on abstinence –which was a moot point for him, and essentially a moot point in small town America, no matter how evangelistic the people claimed to be.

Jenny wrinkled her nose, giggling uncomfortably.

"Did you answer her?"

Gibbs just shook his head, and Jenny rested her head against his chest again.

"I don't want to go home," she said. "I don't want to be here," she sighed. She lifted her arms, and then stepped closer. "Let's run away."

He ran his hand up and down her spine, and pressed his lips to the crown of her head, setting his shoulders firmly.

"It'll get better, Jen," he soothed.

She shrugged, only a little comforted. He was probably right – and it wasn't as bad as it could have been, because back when the secret had first gotten out, school had been over – so most people had gotten over their gleeful, shocked whispers, and soon they'd get used to the reality of seeing it in front of them.

She pulled away, and leaned against the truck, kicking her bag a little.

"You know what I found out today?" she asked in a small voice.

"Hmm?"

She tilted her head back and stared at the sky.

"There was some debate about me being allowed to come back to school."

"What?" Gibbs asked sharply, blinking. "Why the hell – "

"Because of what kind of example I'd set," she said heavily. "For the younger girls. They suggested my father try a … bigger school, in the district." She took a shaky breath, and her lips trembled. "It's just one mistake," she said desperately. "I know it's a big one, I'm not trying to act like this isn't a huge thing but – I didn't kill anyone."

She looked over at him, and he gave her a bitter look – not directed at her, but at the people who were treating her so differently. That's why he didn't like it here. That's why he and his father clashed – because Gibbs didn't like people putting their noses where they didn't belong, and he didn't like that this whole town thought everyone thought and worked the same.

She licked her lips, and stared at him sullenly.

"Homecoming is October sixth," she said quietly, blinking quickly. "I'll be eight months, I won't fit into dresses – and Dad, he won't," she broke off, gritting her teeth. "I can't go."

Gibbs shrugged a little.

"I hate those things, Jen," he reminded her. "We weren't gonna do all that, you said – "

"I know what I _said_ ," she snapped. "I _know_ , but now it's just another conspicuous thing," she broke off again, and hit her head against the truck. She reached up to hold onto the mirror, and her chipped red nails sparkled in the sunlight.

She stared at her hand.

"I'm signed up for three AP classes," she said quietly. "I kept all the honors and APs on my schedule, because I want that, and I want to get into a good college, and to make my Dad impressed with me, but I," she caught her breath uncomfortably, "I don't think I can do it. If he won't help, and you're in school, too, and I have to pay someone to watch a baby, and then work – sometimes I just start thinking about it, and it gets so overwhelming I want to scream!"

She groaned, kicked her bag over, and then pushed her hair back.

"How do you cope?" she burst out. "You're always so quiet, and you're always just there – it's like you don't think about it."

"I think about it!" he said defensively. He struggled to find something to say for a minute, and then he put his hand on hers, leaning against the truck parallel to her. "I can't do anything about it, Jen," he muttered. "'M always … tryin' to just …get through the day."

"But what about the future?" she asked. "Doesn't that terrify you?"

He shrugged.

"Not yet."

It was only a partial truth; of course it was daunting, but he meant what he said: he just thought about the day he was currently having, and he got through that, and he moved forward. He never had any plans for college or anything like her, he just had known he was going to leave Stillwater – and that had probably changed now, but he didn't dwell on it.

Jenny looked at him in disbelief for a moment, and then she smiled. She smiled, and she laughed, and she sounded amused and skeptical, but he smiled a little, too. She looked over at him brightly.

"I love you," she said, catching her lip between her teeth. He liked hearing it now as much as he had the first time she'd said it – and he knew she meant it, and when he said it back, he meant it, because as little as he knew about love, he associated it with Jenny.

He stared at her a little longer, and then he smirked.

"You want to come hide out at the store?" he offered. She could do homework there, if she had any, at least that's what she'd say, and she could spend some time with his mother – someone who was a little less hard on her.

She nodded, and started forward. He bent to pick up her things – he had always carried them before he got her pregnant, and he sure as hell hardly let her carry them now. She rolled her eyes at him, but reached for the purse, rummaging for sunglasses. She slipped them on, and then she stood still, and he sensed she was meeting his eyes behind the black lenses.

"Jen?" he ventured, tilting his head.

She pursed her lips, and touched her abdomen.

"Gnat," she said carefully, using the little nickname. "She…is moving around."

Gibbs arched his eyebrows – it wasn't the first time that had happened; she had called him to tell him the first time. She seemed to be a little conflicted though.

"Does it make you feel sick?" he asked suddenly, struck with curiosity.

She shook her head.

"No," she said softly. "It's … nice."

She looked at him a little shyly, and then she reached out.

"You want to – feel it?" she asked.

He let her take his hand, and lay it somewhere on her abdomen, somewhat close to her ribs, and he waited, wary of the sensation – she watched his face, watch his jaw move when he felt, it, too, and she thought – from the sudden sharp, awed look in his eyes – that he _might_ have started thinking in terms of the future.

* * *

Out by the old shed where he kept the bones of a car he'd been working on, Gibbs yanked at the stiff tie around his neck, loosening it until it hung against the collar of his suit sloppily. He hated the monkey outfit almost as much as he'd hated court, and he was feeling angry without feeling like he had a right to be.

He was just glad he'd gotten away from his father – Jackson had been angry in the car, angry outside of the courthouse – for once since April, he'd been indignant for his son, and Gibbs didn't like that anymore than he liked being treated like dirt.

He shoved his hands in his pockets a moment, and then turned and violently opened the shed, walking inside and tearing the sheet off the old car. He examined it for a moment, trying to get his thoughts straight – he'd probably calm down if he worked on it a while, focused his thoughts.

"Leroy."

There was a knock on the side of the shed, and he turned to find his mother standing in the doorway. She was barefoot, but she was still dressed in her neat professional clothing – and she'd taken her hair back into a messy ponytail.

Ann smiled calmly.

"I know that was harsher than you expected," she said gently.

He shrugged. He didn't know what he'd been expecting. Jenny had told him point-blank the Colonel was going to take it to court, and when he'd relayed that information to his father, Jackson had shrugged and agreed that it was smart to do that.

"Better to do it now, while you two still like each other, and it's not all about spite," the elder Gibbs had grunted.

Ann entered the shed and sat down on the front of the car gingerly, looking at her son intently. Her lips tightened somewhat; even Ann was a little irritated by Jasper Shepard's behavior – he hadn't been entirely uncivil, but he had been more of a barracuda than was necessary – as far as she was concerned.

"He thinks he's doing what's best to protect his daughter," Ann remarked.

Gibbs nodded. Fine, he didn't care. He'd already worked his ass off all summer; he still worked his ass off now – yard work, construction projects, inventory for the Farm Supply store – he'd already said he'd support Jenny, and her father didn't seem to acknowledge that he was a man of his word.

Gibbs pushed away from the car and leaned against the side of the shed.

"You have a right to be angry, Leroy," Ann prompted sagely. "I'm very proud of you for keeping your cool in public – but you're alone, now," she reminded him. She lifted her shoulders. "I'm not very fond of Jasper's lack of regard for your education – "

"I don't care," Gibbs interrupted in a low voice. He shrugged flippantly. "S'not that."

Ann compressed her lips.

"I care about your education," she said firmly. "I know you don't get along with your father," she said regretfully. She rested her hand on the car. "You have real talent, in those hands. Architects go to college these days."

He shot her a sharp look. He didn't want to talk about what he wanted to do – he wasn't even so sure how she knew that. Maybe she'd seen his sketches of things he could build, or maybe she just understood him better than Jackson did. Still, he admitted to nothing.

Ann grit her teeth – Jasper had taken away much of Gibbs' chances, today. The monthly allowance he'd asked for – and received – meant Gibbs was going to break his back working, and he'd never be able to go to college right away, because his parents couldn't afford to send him, and there was no way he'd be able to work for tuition and keep up his payments to Jenny – especially with her a year behind him.

She understood that the Colonel had always had high hopes for his daughter, and she knew that Jenny had wanderlust – and while Ann by no means felt Jasper was letting his daughter off scot-free, he did seem to hold Gibbs' future in little regard.

"Ma," Gibbs grunted, looking up. "I was gonna give my money to Jen, anyway."

"I believe you," she said. "But I would have preferred he give a little more consideration to your education – "

"I don't give a damn about school," Gibbs grunted.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Ann snapped sternly, "your father and I work very hard to give you better opportunities – "

"Yeah, well," Gibbs interrupted curtly, "now I gotta do that for my own kid."

Ann pressed her lips together tightly. She felt conflicted at his words – she was proud to hear him say that, proud he did seem to realize the wealth of responsibility he was going to inherit, but it broke her heart that his whole life seemed to be cut so short.

"She likes school," Gibbs muttered, rubbing his palms on his suit, getting dust on the trousers. He lifted his shoulders selflessly.

He'd rather Jenny try to go to college, or whatever. He'd do what he had to – there was still the option of the military, he'd always thought that's what he'd do anyway – and his dad couldn't disapprove of that; Jackson was military, and his father before him.

Gibbs leaned forward, examining a spec on the car, and then he clenched his fist. He was upset because Jenny's father thought he needed a court order to make him step up, and he was angry because – Jasper had all but argued that Gibbs wasn't fit to –

" _Jethro_ , I – oh, Mrs. – Ann – "

Gibbs looked up from his car, blinking; he recognized the voice, and he was right; Jenny was jogging across the yard, coming to a stop besides his mother, flushed, her eyes bright. It looked like she hadn't at all expected to interrupt.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "Your father said you were out here."

She bit her lip nervously, and Ann reached out to slip her arm around Jenny's shoulders soothingly.

"It's all right, dear," she said. "You didn't run here, did you?"

"I walked quickly," Jenny said diplomatically. She turned to Gibbs. "I know they recommended we stay away from each other after a court date, but I just – look, Jethro, I didn't know he was going to do that. I wouldn't have – "

Gibbs shrugged, avoiding his mother's eyes.

"It's fine," he grunted.

"No, it's not!" Jenny burst out.

Ann rubbed her shoulder.

"Try not to excite yourself – "

Jenny pulled away from her a little.

"I'm not going to pass out just because I get a little _excited_!" she snapped. She was tired of all these older women acting like pregnancy was such a hush-hush curse; she was fine!

"I didn't _know_ he was going to sue for full custody!" Jenny said.

Ann tried to catch Gibbs' eye, but he still avoided the look. That's what the Colonel had done – stood up, after the monetary issues had been handled, and thrown them all for a loop by saying he was asking for total custody – not for Jenny, for himself.

"I believe he had good intentions," Ann said diplomatically.

"No!" Jenny said stubbornly, stomping her foot. She paused. "No," she said again, shaking her head. "He has been hounding me for months – about how much my life is going to change, how my whole life is going to be about this baby, and I have been trying to at least prove I'm keeping that in mind – and Jethro has been working, and then he tries to take my baby away?"

Jenny licked her lips, and threw up her hands.

"But he'd still want me to be the mother, to work, to do everything, but he's the one who has legal say in everything?"

"Maybe he thought it was safer," Gibbs said sullenly. "He doesn't think I can be trusted."

"Leroy," began Ann carefully.

"No, he's right!" Jenny interrupted again. "If he had won that, it would be _kidnapping_ for me to move away! It would be kidnapping if I brought the baby over here and let her stay with Gibbs for a few days, without his permission! That wasn't fair – to either of us!"

Ann stepped closer to Jenny again.

"The judge saw that," she reminded her. "That's why he awarded sole custody to you, at least."

Jenny pointed at Gibbs.

"But _I_ wanted to share custody! Or – ugh, I didn't even think we had to talk about it!" Jethro and I are together, he's going to help me – and Dad didn't even have to gut you like that financially!"

Jenny was starting to sound hysterical, and Gibbs cleared his throat and strode over, sitting down on the front of the car and looking at her intently. He lifted his shoulders, and crossed his arms tightly across his chest.

"I said I'd pay the money," he said curtly. "Jen." He took a deep breath. "I told your old man I'd pay that much."

She looked at him, her lips parted in surprise. He nodded, getting the point across.

"That way, you got time to focus on stuff, to get into college."

Ann gave her son an admiring look, and Jenny pushed her hair back, shaking her head back and forth.

"Jethro," she hiccupped. "He's – you don't understand, he took my college fund away," she choked.

Gibbs tightened his jaw.

"He – what?"

"I had this – small amount of money, not much, maybe like six thousand? To put towards college, my grandparents left it to me. They left him in control of it and he," Jenny broke off, chewing on her lip. "He changed the terms, I have to use it on the baby."

Ann furrowed her brow.

"What do you mean, Jennifer?"

"I mean," she burst out, "I can either leave it, to start a college fund for her, or I can work out a monthly allowance to afford buying her clothes, or just generally paying for her – and I don't know what he wants me to do, how he's judging my decision – I don't know if he wants me to work, or use it to move out – or keep it for her – "

She strode forward and sat down next to Gibbs, bowing her head.

"He didn't want me to come over here and tell you, but I'm so angry at him for ambushing us – you, like that, and I know your father's mad about it, Jethro," she confessed hoarsely. "You don't deserve this, I just – _god_!"

He smiled at her a little.

"You got custody, though," he said gruffly. "I can take care of her when you need me to," he promised. "You trust me?"

" _Of course_ I trust you," she hissed, rolling her eyes. She glanced at his mother, flushed, and then pushed her hair back again. "I wouldn't have made … any decisions that might have … put us in this, you know, position… if I didn't trust you."

Gibbs shrugged.

"We'll work somethin' out. Don't care what your father says," he added, despite his mother's look. "And I'll get you to college, Jen."

She shook her head a little.

"I don't think we can think about that right now," she admitted. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she started, but then she decided she needed to be apologizing to Ann instead. "I'm sorry he made it impossible for Jethro to go," she said tiredly. "I know…the agreement means he'll have to work to pay, once he's out."

That was because – his committed child support was set to double upon his graduation and ability to get a full time job. He didn't have the grades for a full scholarship – and he didn't care about going.

Ann smiled demurely.

"We make sacrifices," she said neutrally. "Jenny, I don't fault your father for handling this however he thinks is best. And I promise my husband isn't angry with _you_."

Jackson was pissed at the Colonel, but that wasn't Jenny's fault; and Ann wasn't going to let her own irritation with the man make Jenny feel any worse – these kids were already dealing with more than they should have to. Yes, they had put themselves in this situation, but that didn't mean – in her mind – that they had to be thrown to the wolves.

"I just want him to ease up on me," Jenny admitted, her shoulders sagging. "I know how much I disappointed him. I know he's – embarrassed, and angry and – I know. But I just wish…he wouldn't treat me like I'm empty headed, and like I don't realize what I've done."

"Take the money and move in with me," Gibbs said dryly.

Jenny laughed.

"I doubt that would solve anything," Ann remarked, arching an amused eyebrow. She sighed, and considered them a moment. "This is very hard for all of us to deal with," she said finally, deciding to be frank. "This isn't what any of us wanted for either of you. It's very difficult to navigate…parenting two people – "

"Who are parents?" Jenny suggested.

She looked at Ann, and she felt chastised – but she felt accepted; she was so grateful for Gibbs' mother. She nodded.

"When my dad gives me orders now, it's hard for me not to think…that he can't tell me what to do anymore."

Ann laughed.

"I think you two are going to clash a lot," she told Jenny honestly. "When you have that baby, I want you to remember something," she began wisely: "It is _your_ baby. But he has raised a child before. And you have to balance his experience with your authority as a mother."

Jenny looked at her intently, and moved her head – accepting the advice. She turned and looked at Gibbs, wishing they could just move on from this day – it was one of the worst days she'd had in a while, and it came just as things at school were dying down – people didn't stare so much anymore, they didn't talk – they'd gotten over it, and she figured it would stay that way, simmering, until there was another burst of scandal when she actually had a baby to show off.

Ann inclined her head, and cleared her throat.

"I'm going to start on supper. If you'd like to stay, Jenny, you're welcome – but you will call your father and tell him."

She turned to go, and Jenny chewed her lip a moment, before calling out –

"Ann?"

Gibbs' mother turned, her curly hair bouncing against her shoulders. She arched her eyebrows pleasantly, waiting.

"What about your experience?" Jenny ventured. She hesitated. "My dad … he's a father. My mother," she shrugged, breaking off. She didn't have much to go on, if she based her technique off her own mother.

Ann looked a little honored, and she inclined her head.

"I'd be happy to share some tricks," she said neutrally, and then winked.

She started the walk up the path, from the shed to the house, and Jenny turned to Gibbs. She slid off the car, and walked around it, her hand tracing the chipped, faded paint job.

"You should get this running," she said faintly. "Then, we really could run away."

He smirked, and followed her with his eyes.

"Don't have time to work on it," he said gruffly.

Jenny sighed. She climbed into the backseat and sat there, her eyes stinging.

"I know," she said huskily. "I'm sorry."

He walked over, shaking his head.

"Not your fault," he said.

"You're right," she said, mustering a glare. " _You're_ the one who opened the condom with your teeth."

"Yeah," he growled glaring back. "Why'd you tell Alison?"

"Because," Jenny giggled. "We were trying to – figure out what happened, since I thought it was _responsible_ to use them, and I just … well, she thinks it's funny."

Gibbs arched his eyebrows in disbelief and glanced at her abdomen – yeah, _hilarious_. She licked her lips, and tangled her index finger in a lock of her hair, staring up at him.

"It's like, two months away," she murmured. "What do you think?"

He shook his head; he tried not to think about it too much.

"S'different than takin' home a sack of flour for a week," he joked.

Jenny smiled half-heartedly.

"Maybe if they told you about teeth and condoms in health class instead of giving you a fake baby and a sermon, this wouldn't have happened."

He smirked. She caught her tongue between her teeth, and then she glanced at the shed door again.

"You still think I'm pretty?" she asked quietly, tilting her head suddenly.

He gave her a look, and then nodded.

"Yeah," he said, without hesitation.

"Even like this?"

He nodded again, firmly. She glanced at the shed door again, and then moved over, giving him room to climb into the backseat. He gave her a somewhat hesitant look – their circumstances had kind of put them off any real sort of fooling around, which seemed odd, since now there really was nothing to worry about.

She beckoned to him.

"That guy the other week was right," she said, batting her lashes wryly. "We don't have to use anything right now."

He gave her a wary look, then a grin, and then he went and pulled the shed door shut, and climbed into the backseat of his pet project with her, pushing her hair back, and pulling her close enough for comfort.

* * *

Jenny spent a lot of time in the storage alcove above the General Store these days – she liked it there. There was an octagonal window that let in just the right amount of sunlight, and an old desk with a comfortable chair that Jackson Gibbs did business calculations at. He was kind enough to let Jenny use it for homework on the days when she spent nights at the Gibbs' – even though when it came time for bed, he gave her Gibbs' room, and banished Gibbs to the room above the store.

She respected and obeyed those wishes, but it always made her laugh – the old fashioned rule that was irrelevant at this point.

The whole reason she spent nights at the Gibbses sometimes was because her father refused to leave her alone on his night shifts anymore – now that it was getting closer and closer to time for her to have the baby. He didn't want to put her in an emergency situation she couldn't handle.

She liked to sit in the window seat, and watch people come into the store. The only person who ever looked up to see if she was there was Jethro, and now he came home so late from work that he couldn't see her in the dark.

She took a break from the book she was reading to lean her head back, and in that moment, there was a knock on the door, and Gibbs' mother came in.

"I brought you some tea," she said, holding up a pink mug. She walked over and set it carefully on the desk, looking at some of the other books Jenny had piled up. "Ah, they still make you read _The Scarlet Letter_?"

"Well, if they _didn't_ , I'm sure they would have put it back on the list, just for me," Jenny said dryly.

"I believe Leroy might have read one page of _Spark Notes_ for this," Ann laughed.

"I liked it," Jenny said softly. She shrugged, and then shifted, getting up slowly – she winced – and coming over to take the tea, admiring the novel. "I like Hester. She showed them all."

Ann smiled.

"Maybe I'll name the baby Hester."

"Oh, you _wouldn't_ ," Ann cried softly, wrinkling her nose.

"No," Jenny agreed, shaking her head. She curled her fingers around the mug of tea, enjoying the warmth. "I wouldn't," she murmured – it was a terrible last name, but she liked the idea of using Prynne as a middle name. She didn't say anything though, because she'd already promised Gibbs he could pick the middle.

She took a long sip of the tea – decaffeinated, of course, because Ann knew what she was doing – and a soft, frothy peppermint flavor, enough to soothe her and warm her up.

"Sit down," Ann said, gesturing back at the window seat. "Please, I know, believe me – your feet must be aching."

Jenny sat down without argument, and Ann spun the desk chair around, taking a seat in it across from her son's girlfriend. She looked at the book Jenny had in the seat with her, and the backpack – and a lot of things that Jenny had just started leaving around here – and she smiled fondly.

"How is school, Jenny?" she asked kindly.

"Um, it's good," Jenny answered, taking a deep breath. "I'm still – I'm a good student," she said earnestly. "So, ah – I still have … straight A's," she flushed, a little sheepishly. "But…being pregnant, I know is different than – well, I don't think that will last."

"I wouldn't sell yourself short," Ann retorted confidently.

Jenny took some time to sip her tea, and then she took a deep breath.

"It's not pessimism," she said. "It's – realistic," she explained slowly. "You know I'm…not going back to school until after Christmas."

Ann nodded – that had been discussed; since she was supposed to have the baby so close to Thanksgiving, her father had decided it was best if she just take 'leave' as he called it until she adjusted. Homebound education, it was called – there would be a teacher from the county who came by once a week to make sure her work was getting done.

"You'll have time to keep up your work ethic," Ann encouraged. "Babies sleep as much as they cry."

"So, I'll work while she sleeps."

Ann laughed.

"You'll sleep when she sleeps," Ann corrected. She beamed. "But if you need a break, you can bring her over here."

Jenny smiled faintly.

"I wanted to speak to you about that," Ann went on.

"Hmm?" Jenny murmured nervously.

"Well, you know, your father works night shifts quite frequently," Ann began, "and – I believe he's planning on taking some time off, for a few weeks?"

"Yes," Jenny said quietly. She smiled a little. "He's – to help me. He actually said those words," she went on, a little proudly. "To help me."

Ann nodded.

"He mentioned that to Jackson. However, he's not comfortable with you staying alone in the house, with an infant, when he returns to work – at least not overnight."

Jenny rested her teeth on the edge of the mug, listening intently – her father hadn't spoken to her about this, but deep down, the idea had terrified her. Her father making her do the work while he was there to supervise was one thing; but if there was no one close and something went wrong –

"I felt it would be fair if you brought the baby to us on those nights," Ann said carefully.

Jenny looked at her anxiously.

"What if I don't want to leave her?" she asked quickly. "I mean, I might be tired, but I think I'll be attached, or nervous – and obviously you know how to take care of a baby, but I want to try to – ah, feed her … myself – "

Ann nodded, smiling comfortably.

"You won't have to leave her," she soothed. "You'll be able to stay here, just as you do now. We'll let you stay in Gibbs' room, still – we'll set up the baby in our parlor, though, and put Leroy on the couch with her, and I thought it would be a nice break for you if he took care of her those nights."

"Feeding, though – "

"Oh, Jennifer," Ann said mildly, "I can teach you how to get around that, you'll just prepare some bottles for him ahead of time."

Jenny gave her a bemused look, and Ann laughed at her good-naturedly.

"Are you finished with your homework?" she ventured, changing gears. "Jackson's just closed up downstairs – I'd like to show you something, if you have a moment."

Jenny, a little taken aback by the change in topic, nodded, chewing on her lip.

"Yeah," she sighed, taking another long sip of tea. "I actually am caught up on work, I've been – well, reading ahead, to maybe prevent myself falling behind."

Ann beamed at her. She got up, and beckoned, a secretive smile on her face. Jenny got up, still carefully protecting her mug, and followed Gibbs' mother – down the narrow stairs, into the dark store – where Jackson was still counting money – and out down the path towards the Gibbs' house.

She shivered in the November air, glad it wasn't quite wintery cold yet – it still felt a little like autumn, most days. She walked quickly next to Gibbs' mother, clutching her mug for warmth, and she was relieved when they got into the homey little cottage.

"I worked on this today – I had some help from Jackson and Leroy, but you know I have some free time, when I'm not at the Florists'," Ann explained. She sounded a little nervous, and Jenny's brow furrowed. "Come here, sweetheart," Ann coaxed, taking Jenny's shoulders and guiding her into the parlor.

Ann squeezed her shoulders as she turned her.

"Now," she began delicately, "it's supposed to be a sun room, or a tea room, so it's open, and there are no doors – but it's all we have, and we only had to move an armchair," she explained.

Jenny blinked, looking around her, trying to grasp what she was being shown.

"You see, Leroy can sleep here," Ann pointed at the couch that had always been there. "He can sleep anywhere – men, you know – and it's close enough that he will get to the baby easily, and, it's a little space – "

"Ann," Jenny interrupted, stepping forward. She swallowed hard, walking towards the white, wooden crib set up in the parlor. She ran her hands over it, looking first at the mobile, and then at the pretty bedding lining it. "This…is for me?"

Ann nodded.

"That's Leroy's old crib," she confessed. "Jackson made sure it was still strong enough – Leroy painted it white," she explained. "He," she started to tell Jenny he'd made the mobile, but she held back; maybe Gibbs would prefer she not know. "He wanted to do something."

Jenny bit her lip, swallowing hard. She felt – overwhelmed by the gesture. She turned towards Gibbs' mother.

"Thank you," she said.

"Ah, ah," Ann said. "Not yet." She stepped out of the room a moment, opened a closet – and she came back in with a laundry basket full of things – blankets, some diapers, a few bottles, a couple of small outfits and knit hats.

She set it down in the crib, pointing out a few things.

"It's a lot of basic things," she murmured. "This is for blowing the baby's nose, if she gets a cold," she said, gesturing around. "This is a blanket that I used to put Leroy on, in the yard – oh, and this hat, well, I just put a 'G' on it – I thought you might give the baby our last name…" Ann trailed off.

Jenny sifted through the stuff.

"Ann," Jenny said softly. "Ann, you just – didn't have to…"

Ann held up her hand gently.

"I didn't want t subvert your father's wishes," she said quietly. "I understand that he doesn't want you taking this lightly, and he doesn't want to do anything that seems to reward you – he wouldn't allow me to give you a shower," she confided. Ann paused. "I wanted to do something for you, though," she explained. "I think you understand very well your situation, and I wanted you – and Leroy – to know, well," Ann sighed. "You may be too young, and this is not the best situation, but I don't want you to be so miserable that you resent your child."

Jenny nodded, listening eagerly. Ann sighed, reaching out to touch her cheek in a maternal way.

"And I want you to know you have someone in your corner," she said gently. "I wasn't even sure you had a place to keep the baby in your house, and I know – usually – the nursery is a big part of getting ready."

Jenny was quiet, trying to find something to say.

"I have a place," she said finally. "Dad bought the basics – crib, changing table, a small cradle for my room. This stuff though," she gestured at the clothes. "I…thank you, Ann."

Jenny stepped forward hesitantly, and Ann welcomed her with a hug, wrapping her arms around her tightly. She nodded, and gave the young girl a supportive kiss on the forehead, hugging her a little longer than necessary. She very much hoped that things were going to work out for the best.

Jenny pulled away, looking back at the crib; Jackson and Gibbs walked into the house, stomping mud off their boots, talking loudly.

"Ann?" Jackson called.

"In here," she answered.

Gibbs came in, followed by his father. Ann smiled at Jenny, patted her shoulder again, and slipped out, turning Jackson and taking him into the kitchen. Gibbs approached slowly, keeping his hands in his pockets.

"What do ya think?" he asked quietly.

He had soot and dirt on him; he must have been doing something at the steel mill. She brushed at some of it on his shirt and smiled, clearing her throat and trying to talk steadily.

"I love your mom," she said sincerely. "This is the first time I've just been … kind of happy. Peaceful."

He smirked a little, and gestured with his elbow.

"Hey," he defended gruffly. "I made the mobile."

"Really?"

"Got a lot of shit for it, too. In shop class."

Her eyes glittered, and she stepped closer, resting her hand on his shoulder. She pressed her lips to his jaw, and smiled. He slipped an arm around her waist, and glanced warily into the crib, apprehension rising in his chest. Jenny rested her head against his shoulder.

"Are you scared?" she asked quietly.

He shrugged.

"Nah," he lied bravely, his eyes still on the crib.

"Me neither," she retorted smoothly.

She laughed, then, because as acclimated as she'd gotten to being pregnant, and as used as she'd gotten to preparing for the reality of having a baby, and telling herself what it was going to be like – they both knew they couldn't really fathom what it was going to be like until the baby was sleeping in that very crib.

* * *

He had to use a map to get himself to Columbia County General Hospital, because he'd never been to that one before. The few trips he'd taken had been to Benton Memorial, but Columbia County was bigger and better, so that was naturally where Jenny's father took her.

He parked his car haphazardly in the visitor parking lot – his parents were coming along behind him, lagging because Jackson had to lock up the store – and he went in to find the waiting room, looking around for a nurse or – someone to tell him something – his beeper had gone off about two hours ago –

"Leroy," called a stern voice.

Gibbs turned, and found himself face to face with Jenny's father. The Chief of Police considered him for a long moment, his expression gruff and tight, and then he lifted his chin, and checked a watch on the wall.

"You cut school, son?" he asked.

Gibbs gave him a look of disbelief. _That's_ what the Colonel was worried about now? When his daughter –

"Yeah," he said, a little too brazenly. "You don't think I should be here?" he asked, bristling.

The Colonel's expression didn't change.

"These things aren't emergencies," he said firmly. "You didn't have to leave school."

Gibbs glared at him stubbornly.

"I wouldn't have gone at all, if you'd have told me this morning!"

It was Jenny's best friend who had paged him, because the Colonel had called the school, and Alison was an office worker – and then Gibbs found out the Colonel had paged his parents, and his mom was on his way to tell him when he'd shown up.

"Your education is important," Jasper Shepard said stiffly.

"You want me to step up to the plate or not?" Gibbs growled confidently. He glanced towards the doors, and then started towards the nurse's station near triage.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jasper asked.

"To see her," Gibbs fired back.

"I don't think that's a good idea," the Colonel said sharply.

Gibbs shook him off.

"Shouldn't you be in there?" he asked angrily. He pointed. "She's been scared of this for months, _Chief_ ," he snapped sarcastically, forgetting himself. "You think she wants to be _alone_? She's only sixteen!"

He felt like he was watching himself, suddenly – there he stood, only seventeen himself, and berating his girlfriends' father publicly, in the middle of a hospital waiting room. It felt surreal, but he was on edge – and he felt like he needed to be an adult, and somehow, fighting with Jenny's father made him feel more in control.

"I know very well how old she is," the Colonel said icily. He paused for a very long moment, and then unclenched his teeth. "She does not want me with her," he said finally.

He turned sharply, walked over to a chair, and sat down stiffly – his back straight, his shoulders back, his hands clasped between his knees. He took to staring at a clock, almost ignoring Gibbs' presence.

Gibbs swore under his breath. He turned his back, gritting his teeth – at least the Colonel seemed to be hurt by that, though Gibbs didn't blame Jenny. She wouldn't want a goddamn drill sergeant at her side, looking down on her, while she did this.

Gibbs strolled over to the nurse, and cleared his throat warily.

"Can I – uh, you know anything about Jennifer Shepard?" he asked bluntly. He had not clue what he was supposed to ask, or how to phrase what he wanted. "She's having a baby," he added helpfully.

The nurse looked at a chart full of names and times, and then she peered at him.

"Family only," she said in a short, falsely cheery voice. She pointed. "Her father is right over there."

Gibbs stared at her balefully – surely she'd heard he and the Colonel taking pot shots at each other just a minute ago. He stared at her a moment, watching her kind of turn away, as if trying to shoo him away, and he leaned forward.

"Look, Ma'am," he said, trying some charm. He flashed a stuff smile. "She's having _my_ baby," he stressed.

The woman gave him a clipped sort of judgmental nod, and pointed again to the Colonel unhelpfully, refusing anything else. Gibbs shrunk back from the counter, a narrow look on his face. He felt useless - how could he not be considered _family_? He turned in time to see his parents walk in – his mother gave him an encouraging smile and then walked straight over to the Colonel, and Jackson strolled up.

"How is she?" he asked neutrally.

Gibbs shrugged violently.

"Her dad won't let me back," he snapped. "Nurse won't say anything, 'm not family."

"Ah." Jackson said stiffly. "Well, no news is good news, Leroy," he said.

Gibbs looked over. His mother had taken a seat next to Jasper and was leaning close to him, talking softly. The Colonel seemed to be listening to her.

"What's she doing?" Gibbs asked curtly.

"Talkin' him off a cliff, I s'pose," Jackson snorted. "Man's got to be a wreck, she's just a baby. He's worried."

Gibbs snorted derisively.

"He doesn't care about her," he lashed out.

"Leroy," Jackson said sharply. "That man loves his daughter more than you can imagine – ah," Jackson broke off. He gave Gibbs a look. "Well. You'll understand today, I 'spect." He sighed, and glanced at the Colonel again. "You got to understand, Gibbs…this is always gonna hit her harder. Don't matter what you think, or what you do. She had the baby. Ties her closer to it than you'll ever be. You hear me?"

Gibbs shrugged. He didn't think that was true. Men could take care of babies – at least they should, if they had them. That's what he thought. He glanced at his father, wondering if that kind of thinking was why Jackson was only really involved when he was disciplining him.

"He was tryin' to raise him a girl whose only options weren't marriage, and stayin' at home – but he wanted to give her a good upbringin', too, not some sleazy city life," Jackson muttered. "This ain't ever what he wanted for her."

Gibbs considered the Colonel, vaguely unsure how Jackson knew so much about Shepard. Jasper had grown up in Stillwater, left for the Army – then come back, divorced from a small town girl in the city over who'd tried to be a dancer and ended up staying in California.

Gibbs set his jaw.

"Doesn't matter," he said finally, his voice tense. "He doesn't have to treat her like she's got no more chances."

Jackson considered his son intently, a little impressed by the comment. He started to say something, but quieted; Ann stood up, and was coming over.

"Jasper says that if Jennifer agrees, you can go back," she said to Leroy. She held out her hand, indicating he should take it and follow her to the nurses' station.

Gibbs stared, suddenly feeling small – afraid to face it. He started to reach out, but before he could commit, the same nurse who had treated him so coolly leaned forward, a phone to her ear.

"Is one of you a Gibbs?" she asked. "Jethro Gibbs?"

Gibbs leapt forward, holding up his hand. The Colonel stood up. The nurse nodded.

"One of the OBGYNs is coming to get you," she said primly, hanging up the phone. "Wait patiently, please."

"What's that mean?" Gibbs demanded immediately. He turned away from the nurse before she answered, and caught his mother's eye. "What's that mean?" he repeated.

She rubbed his arm.

"It probably means she's had the baby," she soothed.

"They came and got me, when you were born," Jackson said, slapping him on the back. "Hadn't even had time to finish a cigar."

The Colonel approached them stiffly, reaching into the pocket of his windbreaker. He pulled out a cigar case with a curious expression on his face, and nodded his head at Gibbs' father.

"What do you say we take these outside?" he asked gruffly.

Jackson looked surprised, but grinned.

"Hell, I don't mind celebratin' a granddaughter," he said, relaxing a little.

Jasper flinched slightly at the reminder, then tried to relax himself, tried to feel at least a little happiness – even if it was less than ideal, he shouldn't be darkening the mood – especially since he had no plans to treat Jenny's baby with anything less than affection.

"I asked her not to bank on that damn California ultrasound being right," muttered the Colonel.

"Wait," Gibbs said abruptly, staring between them. "Don't you want to see her? Jen?" he asked sharply. "And the baby?"

They looked at him, and he flushed a little, bristling defensively again.

"You can't refuse to see her," he said coldly. "It'll make her feel like – dirt, if you don't – "

"Leroy," Ann interrupted.

But the Colonel cut her off.

"You're that baby's father, Leroy," Jasper said bluntly. "Only person who's got a right and a responsibility to be in there's _you_."

Jackson nodded, and Ann cleared her throat.

"We thought you and Jenny would like a moment alone," she said. "Time to meet your baby."

Gibbs swallowed some of his pride, feeling sheepish – but he couldn't help it; he was anxious, irritated – just generally emotionally charged and edgy. How else was he supposed to feel – this was very real; very defining.

"No one's refusin' to see her," the Colonel added.

"Last person a woman wants seein' her during or right after childbirth is her father," Jackson added, arching a brow.

Ann gave Gibbs a slightly confirming nod, and Gibbs turned away, stepping towards the hospital doors when he heard them open. A middle-aged doctor in scrubs, with long blonde hair in a ponytail, was walking towards him, a calm look on her face.

"Jethro Gibbs?" she asked.

He nodded, extending his hand. She looked bemused, but she shook it – and then glanced around.

"You brought her in?" she asked, directing her gaze at Jasper. "Her father?"

He nodded.

"And you're her…?"

"Boyfriend," Gibbs muttered.

The OBGYN nodded. She rubbed her hands on her scrub pants and wasted no time.

"Well, she's fine – she did great, no complications. Mom and baby are healthy," the doctor told them smoothly. "You, Mr. Gibbs, have got yourself a lovely baby girl."

Gibbs stared at her – it wasn't shock; he was prepared for there to be a baby, prepared for it to be a girl, even – he just had never imagined himself hearing those words when three hours before he'd been making a paper airplane in trigonometry.

The feeling of his father slapping him on the back jolted him back to reality – and he, in a moment of unexpected excitement, broke into a smug grin. He turned and glanced at his mother, who beamed at him. Jackson even ran a congratulatory hand over his son's shoulder – and last but not least, the Colonel gave a short, careful nod.

Still grinning, Gibbs turned back, raising his brows.

"Can I – ?"

"Yes," the doctor said, reading his mind. "She wanted to be moved first, and cleaned up, but I can take you to her."

Gibbs started forward, and the Colonel opened his mouth.

"She's only asked me to see Jethro," the doctor said firmly, cutting him off. "I'll have a nurse let the rest of you know – I think the ordeal has been overwhelming for her."

Jackson laughed good-naturedly at that, and Gibbs allowed himself to be swept away – down immaculate white hallways that smelled like antiseptic and plastic, around corners, through doors – past, even, a clear window that looked into the nursery – until the doctor stopped him outside of a room and smiled at him.

"I know how hard this is going to be," she said kindly. She gave him a small wink. "Try to take a moment to just enjoy the baby," she advised.

Gibbs swallowed hard, and nodded. The doctor slipped away, and he was still standing at the door, knowing that the moment he opened it, he was stepping into some yet unfathomable life with Jen. He steeled himself for it, tried to prepare himself for it, and then he went in, and he quickly turned to shut the door.

Jenny was sitting up in bed – not just sitting, propped up tiredly on pillows like most women on television were after they had babies, but sitting up, her legs crossed, with pillows behind her. She looked up when he came in and smiled at him – her hair was loose, tangled, and a little damp, and she looked red-eyed and pale – but somehow, he thought she looked prettier than he'd ever seen her.

He came to stand by the bed, and she shifted towards him, lifting her arms.

"It _is_ a girl," Jenny said breathlessly. "She's seven pounds – and she's warm," she said quickly.

He stared down at the bundle of pink blankets in Jenny's arms, the tiny sleeping face. He couldn't look away – her eyes weren't even open, and her skin was so pink and fragile – one little fist was curled near her chest.

"Sit down, Jethro," Jenny said, patting the bed. "It's okay – she doesn't cry very loud, yet, its little high-pitched sounds," she told him earnestly. "Sit," she said again.

He sat down gingerly, afraid he'd shake her – hurt one of them. He moved closer, resting his hand on Jenny's knee, and he leaned in, getting a better look. He swallowed hard.

"She's _small_ ," he said hoarsely, finally finding his voice. He reached out, and then pulled his hand back and just rested it on his leg.

Jenny tilted her head, holding her closer to her chest.

"She's perfect," Jenny murmured softly. She smiled slowly, and looked up. "I named her Natalie," she told him. " _Nat_."

Gibbs smiled at her, and nodded. Jenny arched her brows anxiously.

"You pick her middle name," she encouraged.

Gibbs frowned, giving her a look.

"I'll screw it up," he muttered.

"You can't screw up a _name,_ Jethro," Jenny said.

He tried to think quickly – he hadn't really thought about it at all, because he'd assumed she'd just pick the name, no matter what she'd said. He tried to think of names for girls – he knew his mother's name, but he also knew his mother hated her name, so he didn't pick that – Jenny didn't like her mother much, so he didn't choose that – and then, he only knew girls at school, or the pin-up women of the day, so he tried to think of something more unique.

"Winter," he grunted finally.

Jenny tilted her head. She looked at him a long time.

"Winter?" she repeated. "Why - ?

Gibbs shrugged.

"'Cause, it's cold out," he said, smirking.

She gave him a funny look, and then leaned over.

"Winter doesn't actually start until December," she whispered.

Gibbs shrugged at her, and looked down.

"I like it," he muttered. "November feels like winter," he added defensively.

Jenny looked down at her baby. She smiled – she even felt like laughing a little. She should have known Gibbs would come up with something like that – and she didn't hate it.

"Okay," she agreed softly. "Natalie Winter."

Gibbs was quiet a little longer.

"Gibbs," he added assertively.

Jenny nodded. That was fine, too. She didn't have any love for her last name – and she loved Gibbs, so she had no problem being traditional. She smiled again, and then shifted closer.

"You want to hold her?" she asked carefully.

Gibbs sat up a little straighter, swallowing hard – he did, he really did, and he hadn't realized how much until she offered. He nodded quickly, and reached out hesitantly.

"You won't hurt her," Jenny comforted matter-of-factly. "She'll fit perfectly – and just support her head."

In the next moment, Natalie was in his arms, and he was sitting there looking down at a tiny thing that – he was responsible for, he and Jenny. For the rest of their lives, they had her to worry about, and her to take care of – and she was so little, and so breakable, and so dependent.

Gibbs swallowed hard, adjusting his arms more protectively. He looked at her, and he didn't feel like he'd made such a mistake anymore. Too early, maybe, and too young, definitely, but while he felt like he had a lot to learn, he wanted to do it – seeing her, holding her, made everything feel different; it was still scary, and still hard to comprehend, but it felt real – and when he had focus, when he had purpose, he found confidence.

He smirked, and looked up at Jenny. She smiled at him, her tongue caught between her teeth.

"It won't be so bad," she said lightly.

He shook his head, swallowing hard. He looked back down at Natalie, and Jenny moved closer, snuggling up to his arm, and reaching down to uncurl the baby's fingers, and hold her daughter's hand.

She rested her head against Gibbs' shoulder comfortably, and felt him breathing – it made her feel stronger, like she wasn't alone – she knew she was inundated with endorphins at the moment, and she was experiencing a lot of intense emotions she hadn't at all expected, but she felt optimistic, and for the first time in a while, she didn't think she was so doomed – and she clung to that, and to this moment of happiness, because she still didn't want to think that her whole life was going to be stuck in Stillwater – though now, it wasn't just about getting herself out of the small town, it was about making sure she and Jethro could get Natalie out.

* * *

 **"Young and wild, like they said we should've never been**  
 **and still a child, filling those nights with grown up sin."**  
 **-Eric Church; Young and Wild**

* * *

-the feedback on last chapter was super awesome guys, i'd really appreciate if you kept it up!  
-alexandra :)


	3. Faster Than My Angels Can Fly

_a/n: and now baby Natalie Winter is a reality! I can't even keep track of how many AU kids I have these days._

* * *

 **Stillwater, Pennsylvania: 1985**

 **Faster Than My Angels Can Fly**

* * *

There was something that seemed to be constantly interrupting his sleep – not just his sleep, but also his life in general – and somehow, he still wasn't really used to it. Meaning – he _wasn't_ used to it as in it still took him a moment to realize what was going on when her crying woke him up, but he _was_ used to it as in – he could sleep through it, and it didn't necessarily bother him, but maybe that was because he'd forgotten what quiet sounded like.

He lay on the couch, slowly dragged out of a rare deep sleep by the crying from the crib across the room, and he blinked at the ceiling hazily, biting back a yawn. It took him a moment to convince himself to get up – the sound really didn't grate on his nerves like it did Jenny's; not in the same way. It irritated her and made her desperate to make the baby feel better; it just made him feel like he needed to attend to her.

Gibbs finally sat up, resting his elbows on his knees heavily and blinking steadily a few times. He stared down at his bare feet, wondering vaguely what time it was – it felt like he'd only gotten back to sleep an hour ago. He rested his eyes closed a moment, considering blocking out the noise and seeing if she'd cry it out – but Jenny didn't like that, and besides, it would wake everyone else up.

He stood, and dragged his feet over to the crib. He peered in, avoiding the mobile as he leaned over the side and hung his hand down into it, tickling the crying baby's stomach with a few gentle fingers.

" _Shhh_ ," he mumbled gently.

Despite the late hour, and the general absurdity of being woken up by an infant – his infant – when he was seventeen, the moment her small blue eyes focused on him, even if they were full of demanding tears, he smiled.

He picked her up, and cradled her against his chest, supporting her easily and running his hand lightly up and down her back. He walked slowly back over to the couch – his makeshift bed, on the nights when Jenny was here, and he was on primary baby duty – and sat down.

"Shhh," he murmured again, turning his head. His forehead rested against her ear. "Whatcha want, Natalie?" he asked gruffly.

He glanced up at the ceiling – he'd thought he heard a noise. He looked for a clock, patting Natalie's back rhythmically and lazily trying to quiet her. He had fed her the last time she woke up – and Jenny kept saying that she needed to be on a feeding schedule, according to books she kept reading, but Gibbs' mother mildly just advised she be fed when she was hungry.

" _But what about maintaining healthy weight and schedules and – "_ Jenny argued.

" _Honey, if she's hungry, she'll eat; if not, she won't. Babies have one schedule, and that's chaos,"_ Ann would always answer pleasantly – and then she'd usually whisk Jenny away, and force her to drink some chamomile tea while Gibbs was left to amuse Natalie.

Natalie quieted down a little, but she kept fussing. Gibbs just figured it was going to be one of those nights – not that he had much experience with them. Jenny stayed over about once or twice a week – or she had since her father's family medical leave ended. Usually, the nights weren't so bad – not as horribly bad as Gibbs had imagined, or had always heard – but then, Jenny seemed exhausted all the time.

She was prone to tears, she second-guessed herself all the time, she was angry at her father, she was angry at her situation – Gibbs didn't blame her; after all, she'd planned to be back in school at this point, but it was the first week of February, and she still hadn't returned – her schoolwork was slipping, and the one day she'd gone in to classes to talk to an advisor, she'd been so single-mindedly focused on Natalie that they'd called Gibbs out of class to just take her home and continue homebound schooling for a while.

He knew she hated it, and he didn't know how to help. He'd expected her to be able to easily emotionally stomach going back to school – Jenny was always good at school – but it turned out she'd been blindsided by how nervous it made her to leave the baby, and despite her conflicted need to continue her academics, she kept saying she wasn't ready.

That – and he knew part of it was facing everyone again. It would almost be just like when it had first gotten out she was pregnant – endless questions, whispers, people pretending to be nice, but really just feeding off gossip.

Gibbs swallowed hard, and shifted, holding Natalie in front of him – careful to cradle the back of her head. He raised his eyebrows, watching her scrunch up her face and whimper at him, angry to be removed from the warmth of his heartbeat.

"You're trouble," he said candidly.

Then, again, despite himself, he grinned.

She wasn't so bad.

He held her back against his shoulder, and then turned when he heard someone softly clearing her throat in the doorway.

He arched his eyebrows; Jenny stood there, clad in leggings and a long, checkered flannel shirt. She yawned, blinking, and squinted at him, her eyes darting from him, down to the baby.

"You always talk to her when I'm not around?" she asked quietly.

Gibbs shrugged gently. He didn't answer. Jenny came over, tucking her hair tightly behind her ears. She stood closer to him, looking down tiredly, and then she sighed.

"She's fussy tonight," she murmured.

Gibbs nodded, resting his palm on the baby's head. He tilted his head up.

"You didn't have to get up," he said.

She cleared her throat again.

"It didn't sound like you were going to get her," she said edgily. "I could hear her – " she trailed off, biting her lip. She seemed to think she sounded too snappy, and she sighed, shrugging.

It didn't matter; she didn't sleep very well, anyway. Even here, when she was supposed to make Gibbs do the work, let Gibbs have his side of the responsibility, she was so used to responding – and to her father refusing to assist unless it was an emergency – that she couldn't rest easy.

"I got her," Gibbs answered, his eyes on Natalie's head. "Wish she hadn't woken you," he said to Jenny, and then tilted his head, yanking a string off of Natalie's long-sleeved, Ann-made nightgown.

Jenny shrugged again. She collapsed on the couch next to him, resting for a moment, and then sat forward tensely, perching on the edge. She reached out her arms.

"I want to feed her, anyway," she murmured, wiggling her fingers insistently.

"I can get a bottle," he grunted, starting forward.

"Hmm-mm," she shook her head. "No, I want to do it." Jenny moved closer and pried Natalie away from him, leaning back heavily on the couch. "Can you get me a blanket from – "

He was already up, and grabbing what she needed from a basket by the crib. It was a plain white cloth, something they threw over their shoulders while feeding Natalie. He handed it to her, and Jenny started unbuttoning.

"Want tea or something?" Gibbs asked, edging out.

"You don't have to leave," Jenny muttered, her eyes on Natalie's face as she coaxed the baby around her chest.

Gibbs hesitated warily, and she looked up, annoyed.

"You've seen me naked, Jethro," she reminded him.

He started to say something along the lines of 'but this is different' – and she seemed to sense that. She flushed a little, and looked back down, cupping Natalie's head.

"Grow up," she said tersely. "I'm not the only one who has to."

He bristled a little, but didn't say anything. Instead, he silently returned to the couch, sat down next to her, and leaned back. After a moment, she tilted her head back with a relieved sigh, and wrapped both hands around the baby, holding her firmly against her chest.

Gibbs glanced over – he knew Jenny was breastfeeding, he just never really hung around for it – and at night, he used formula, or bottles she'd prepared while he was working or at school. He meant only to look, but he kept staring, a little mesmerized.

Jenny, her eyes fluttering sleepily, smirked a little.

"Jealous?" she asked wryly.

Gibbs glared at her, and made a face. He tore his gaze away, and then decided he'd stare at Jenny instead. He folded his arms across his chest, and nodded his head in Natalie's direction.

"Is it weird?" he grunted.

Jenny licked her lips, and shook her head slowly.

"I thought it would be, but I like it," she admitted under her breath. She let her eyes rest closed. "It's calming," she said, and then paused for a long moment. "It keeps things in perspective."

Her voice was reflective, and he nodded, thinking to himself. The one thing that couldn't be denied was that no matter how frustrated, angry, tired, or stir-crazy Jenny was these days, she never noticeably took it out on the baby. She and Gibbs both loved Natalie, even if they were still reeling from everything that came with her.

"It starts to get sore, if I don't feed her," Jenny told him quietly.

Gibbs furrowed his brow, but didn't say anything. He shifted, facing towards her a little more, staring at her pale face. They hadn't turned any lights on, but at this point his eyes were well adjusted to the dark. He squinted – he couldn't really tell, and maybe it was just a hunch triggered by the vague scratchiness in her voice, but her eyes seemed red.

"You been crying?" he asked.

"I'm just tired," she muttered evasively.

"Jen?"

She sighed frostily.

"I've always _been crying_ ," she relented, "these days."

"What's wrong?"

She didn't answer right away; she couldn't put it into words. Everything was wrong, and she felt so unimaginably guilty for feeling that way. She couldn't stop thinking about how much she'd screwed up in getting pregnant, she was constantly stressed about things out of her control – school, Natalie getting sick, her father's approval, Gibbs having to work, her future with Gibbs, Natalie growing up, being a good mother – it was all so much, and she wanted it all to just go away –

-there of course, was where the guilt came in; because if all of this went away, she wouldn't have Natalie, and she loved Natalie – she really did; she didn't resent her, or want to pawn her away, or wish she'd never been born; she _loved_ her daughter – but she wanted to catapult herself into a time when she was ready for this.

And she couldn't explain _any_ of that to Gibbs, because he seemed fine; he just took everything in stride, with a sort of unreadable face, or a smile for Natalie. He just accepted, instead of re-thinking and second-guessing, and he seemed to feel some assurance that everything would be okay, and she didn't have that strength that he had – not yet.

She didn't know how to ask him where he got it.

"I think I need to go back to school," she said in a small voice, her voice quavering.

Gibbs nodded – she needed to, if she didn't want to end up staying an extra year or something. It might already be too late for her to recover this year, but maybe if she cleared some stuff up during summer, it would work out better for her.

"No one's stopping you," Gibbs said earnestly, trying to be helpful. He cracked a dull smile. "Hell, Jen, I'd drop out, to let you go."

She laughed hoarsely.

"No, _God_ , no!" she snickered. "We can't be teen parents _and_ dropouts! We'll have to live in a trailer."

He smiled, and shrugged a little. If it was a trailer away from everyone – his father, her father, prying eyes, nosy people – he might be okay with that; just Jenny and Natalie.

Jenny sighed, moving her hands around to get more comfortable, and supporting Natalie lazily.

"It's just," she started, trailing off.

"Hmm?" Gibbs grunted.

"Two weeks ago, when I was supposed to get back into school I … I just had this panic attack, thinking about leaving her with some … I don't know, stranger – well, no one is strange in this town – but finding someone, and all day worrying," Jenny broke off anxiously. "And I don't want you to have to pay for child care, because you already work your ass off and you never have time for friends – "

"You're my friend," he interrupted gruffly.

She rolled her head over and stared at him, smiling a little sadly. He gave her a funny sort of look though, and cleared his throat.

"Jen, you know my mom can watch her while we're at school," he said, furrowing his brow. "She'd love it."

Jenny licked her lips warily.

"Dad _forbid_ me to ask her – he said explicitly that part of being a mother is understanding the expenses of child care, and that I can't just expect that people will do it for me – "

"Goddamnit," swore Gibbs, interrupting tersely. "Jenny – grandparents _watch_ grandkids, it's what they do," he groused angrily. "Hell, I grew up on my granddad's farm – "

"Under normal circumstances – "

"Yeah, yeah," Gibbs snarled, "I get it – your old man thinks that 'cause we're kids, that means we gotta do it on our own – "

"He's got a point, Jethro, we got ourselves into this – "

"I know," Gibbs interrupted harshly, "but he's puttin' all this pressure on you, and it ain't fair – even _adults_ ," Gibbs stressed the word sarcastically, "don't take care of kids without any help – they can't afford to pay people to watch their kids, either."

He swallowed, getting himself worked up. He felt like – Jenny's father was constantly trying to make her life as difficult as possible, and it made him feel helpless. Helpless because his own mother was quietly helpful – and Jackson had essentially gotten over it and adored Natalie, as long as Gibbs kept his word to work and take care of Jenny – and helpless because he felt like no matter what he did, he had it easier than Jenny.

"I want to _prove_ to him that I can do this!" Jenny said, her voice cracking.

She swallowed hard, and sat forward, adjusting both her shirt and Natalie for a moment, and then leaning back, snuggling the baby against her shoulder.

"You know, she never cries when he holds her," Jenny hissed. "And he – I've seen my dad look at her, I know he loves her – but he won't help, at all, he won't even – and it's not like I'm useless or irresponsible, I know I don't have my own life anymore," she went on, frustrated. "I can't ask your Mom, because then he'll have a reason to call me selfish and spoiled and – "

"You're gonna let my mom watch Nat," Gibbs interrupted sharply. "He can't have it both ways, Jen – he can't do all this shit to make you as miserable as possible – "

"He's not making me miserable; he's trying to keep my head on – "

"Why are you defending him?" Gibbs snapped. "You were just complainin' – "

"I don't like it when _you_ attack him!" she burst out in a loud hiss. "He's my Dad, Jethro – how would you like it if I jumped on your back because your Mom coddles you and doesn't make you take care of Natalie every second – "

"I'm not jumpin' on you, I'm jumpin' on _him_ – what the hell are you talkin' about, Jen, I take care of Nat when she's here – "

"You _sleep_ through her crying!" Jenny hissed. " _Your_ mom helps you all the damn time – "

"I'm tryin' to get her to help you!" Gibbs growled, exasperated. "She's my kid, too, Jenny – if I want my mom to watch her, she can, and you can go back to school."

Jenny turned away, flushed. Her eyes stung – the problem was; she knew Jethro was right – he'd voiced everything she was feeling, about how her father was reacting. In the back of her mind, she knew Jasper Shepard was struggling to maintain order, to do what he saw was fit: he was a soldier, and he wanted his daughter to understand the total reality of motherhood – but he was going about it to the extreme, refusing to help her at all, trying to force all sorts of hardships that weren't necessary just to teach her a lesson – and it wasn't fair, because she was a good mother; she loved Natalie –

And since Natalie had been born, she wasn't so concerned with how the baby was going to ruin her life, she was concerned with how she was going to support Natalie, and keep Natalie happy – and be happy herself.

She _wasn't_ some air-headed girl who thought she could still live a carefree teenage life, but she didn't want to totally miss out, either – and her father could see no middle ground.

Natalie started to fuss quietly, and Gibbs reached over and took her swiftly, holding her up and shushing her gruffly. He nestled her in the crook of his arm and looked down; she quieted easily, and her eyes drifted closed – she was content, sleepy again, and Jenny watched her a moment, before slumping back against the couch in relief.

She licked her lips, taking a few deep breaths.

She wanted to go to school, and she wanted to go to college, and she wanted to leave Stillwater and never come back – and that conflicted with her new, fierce desire to protect Natalie, to give Natalie everything.

"We're never alone anymore," Jenny said, her voice shaking. She turned her head. "You and me."

Gibbs looked over at her intently – she was right. They never were. Neither of them dared, at this point - with Natalie almost three months old – to appear to shirk their duties; neither dared ask for a night off.

Gibbs smiled a little. He set his shoulders back a little.

"I got an idea, about that," he said huskily.

She arched an eyebrow, and yawned. She waited patiently.

"You want to go to Prom with me?" he asked.

She looked startled, taken aback – Prom. Prom was in a few months – his senior Prom, her junior – the first she was allowed to go to, per her father's rules – and she'd planned on going with Gibbs since even before she got pregnant. Her lashes fluttered, and she smiled a little, biting her lip – she'd forgotten things like Prom existed.

Jenny nodded, shifting and moving closer, curling up against him while he held the baby. She rested her chin on his bicep, and reached in to clutch Natalie's foot gently, lazily tickling her tiny toes.

Gibbs watched her, and then he nudged her a little with his elbow, giving her a pointed look.

"It'll get better, Jen," he promised bravely.

She licked her lips, and closed her eyes, resting against him – he was so unshakeable, and she chose to put her faith in his inexplicably confident words.

* * *

Gibbs sat in the bed of his truck with the tailgate down, waiting in a mostly empty parking lot. He kept his head bowed, his back to the robust sun, serving as a pillar of shade for his daughter. He kept his hand flat, looking from the small bit of zinc cream in it to Natalie's round little face.

She kept blinking at him, raising her arms and reaching for him, smiling, grabbing her toes – she was sitting up now, even trying to move around on her hands and knees, occasionally. He thought it was fascinating. She seemed to be doing something different every time he blinked.

"It's warm now," he said gruffly.

He'd put a little sunscreen on her face while he waited for Jenny, and she'd cried because it was cold – at least, he'd figured out that was why after about ten minutes of tears. He'd been instructed to put some zinc on her nose, and he was pointedly letting it warm up in the sun.

Gibbs leaned forward and swept some of the zinc onto Natalie's nose. She scrunched her face and lunged backwards. He shot forward and caught her, pulling her towards him. The blanket wrinkled, so he picked her up and placed her in his lap. He accidentally got some zinc on her cheek, shrugged, and wiped the rest on his faded jeans.

"That'll do," he said smugly.

She reached up and grasped at his mouth.

"Da-da-da-da-da," she sang. She ended with a high-pitched shriek – it was her new favorite thing to do: _shriek_ like she was being boiled alive. It was a happy noise, and Gibbs' favorite thing about it was that every time she did it in the General Store, it scared the daylights out of Jackson Gibbs.

Gibbs grinned at her, and nodded.

"Da-da," he repeated quietly. He pointed to his chest. "Me," he said smugly.

Jenny was getting increasingly annoyed that she said 'Da-da' more than she said 'Ma-Ma' – but Ann Gibbs told them both it wasn't really that she was talking – they were just easy sounds for babies to make and repeat.

Natalie beamed at him, and he picked her up, holding her up and tilting his head up to gaze at her. He hardly ever got to just – sort of relax with her. It wasn't necessarily relaxing to sit in the back of his truck in his high school parking lot while his girlfriend pleaded the case of her academic career, but he wasn't at work – and he wasn't at home being apprehensively watched by both of his more experienced parents – and he liked being alone.

He spent a lot of time lately bitterly wishing it was just him, Natalie, and Jenny somewhere – but that was out of the question in so many ways: monetarily, morally – morally in that Jasper Shepard absolutely refused to concede that final point, and even Gibbs parents were adamant that them living together was a preposterous idea.

"Won't be forever, Nat," he muttered, thinking out loud. "We get out own place, I build you a playhouse," he promised.

"That is _so_ adorable!"

He turned his head sharply, his attention drawn away from his baby – a couple of girls were standing near his truck; one, he was familiar with: Alison Flynn, Jenny's best friend. She chewed on a nail and shot Gibbs a vaguely apologetic look; next to her stood head cheerleader Betsy Carmichael, and flanking Betsy was her ever-present shadow, Maggie Hart.

Gibbs lowered Natalie and gave them guarded looks – they must have just left cheerleading practice.

Betsy leaned on his truck, her eyes greedily on Natalie.

"Where's Jenny?" she asked.

"She'll be out here in a jiff, when she senses you near Bug," Alison muttered under her breath – she'd nicknamed Natalie _bug_ since before she was born.

Betsy tossed her hair and ignored the comment, tilting her head.

"She hardly ever brings Natalie around," Betsy sighed. "Everyone wants to see her."

Maggie nodded quickly.

"She's so cute," she said rapidly. "I see your Mama with her down at my Daddy's vegetable stand. With her little bows – "

"Jen does her bows," Gibbs interrupted coolly.

He wasn't sure he trusted Maggie or Betsy – Betsy had been pretty nasty about Jenny in the past year. The girl in question tilted her head though, and pursed her lips, leaning forward.

"It's so precious, you taking care of her," she sighed. "So many guys would have just bolted, you know? I saw you with her stroller the other day, buying children's books – "

Maggie giggled, and Betsy bat her lashes.

"Can I hold her?"

Gibbs glanced at Alison over their heads. The dark-haired girl shrugged and rolled her eyes.

"Hey, if she can catch me in a basket, you can trust her at least not to drop Bug," Alison snorted.

Betsy shot her a glare, and Gibbs shifted. Against his better judgment – his judgment being that Jenny would be pissed – he moved to the edge of the truck and passed Natalie to Betsy – still a little baffled that he was getting so much attention – or rather, Natalie was.

It seemed to happen a lot, when he had the baby – when Jenny wasn't around that is.

Betsy took her and hugged her tight, fawning over her in a stereotypical small town girl way. Everybody loved babies in small town America – and that was a saving grace; it was easy to judge an unwed mother in a little Christian enclave, but most people had stopped whispering behind Jenny's back and started turning pitying but curious eyes on her baby.

"Is it hard?" Maggie asked, fluttering her own lashes. "You're so young – do you ever get to have fun?"

Gibbs gave her a funny look.

"What the hell are you two trying to do?" Alison laughed suddenly, her usual blunt self. "It's not like he's single."

"Well," Betsy sighed. "I kind of thought – well it seems," she broke off, chewing her lip.

"What?" Gibbs grunted, narrowing his eyes.

Natalie stared at Betsy; Betsy smiled. Natalie looked over her shoulder and then strained towards Alison, making grabbing motions with her hands. Alison stepped forward and let the baby grab her fingers.

Betsy shared a meaningful look with Maggie.

"I thought you were with her, you know, just because she had a baby," she said in a hushed voice. "I mean, you and Jenny Shepard used to be just – oh, _gawd_ , talk of the town, inseparable, and you're never together anymore."

Gibbs stared at her, his mouth tight – it bothered him to hear her say that, because it was true; he and Jenny were never alone anymore. But it bothered him more that she thought he only cared about Jenny because he had to, like this was some chore or hassle for him.

He narrowed his eyes.

"We're together all the time," he said stiffly.

Alison looked up through her lashes, smiling at him a little. She glanced over her shoulder and then straightened up, but Gibbs didn't notice her grimace slightly and try to catch his attention.

"Of course," Maggie said quickly. "You – well, you're so – it's so charming, you helping her with the baby – "

Gibbs blinked.

"Yeah, it's my baby," he said blankly – what else would he be doing, living it up while Jenny struggled?

"Men who are good with babies are _so_ rare, my Daddy doesn't pay me attention," Betsy finished, talking over what he'd said.

"What are you doing?"

Before Gibbs could even answer their simpering, Jenny dropped a backpack on the asphalt, and was folding her arms icily. She glanced at Gibbs, and then glared at Betsy.

Natalie swiveled, and lunged, reaching out her hands.

"Oh, there's your Mommy!" Betsy squealed.

Jenny ignored her and took Natalie, rather roughly, from the cheerleader's hands. She touched the spot of zinc on the baby's cheek and wiped it off, brushing it on her t-shirt.

"Just her nose, Jethro," she said, rolling her eyes. She hitched the baby up on her hip and then gave the girls a narrow look. She arched her brow. "What, Betsy?" she asked sharply. "I'm a disgrace because I have a baby, but Jethro is suddenly Cheerleader-worthy boyfriend material?"

Betsy straightened up. Maggie flushed a little and tucked her hair back, stepping away. Betsy didn't say anything about Jenny's dig – it was well known that way back in the playground days, Leroy Jethro Gibbs had had a crush on Betsy Carmichael, and even in grade school she'd been too good for the shopkeeper's boy.

Betsy tossed her hair.

"Actually, Jenny," she said, with an air of practiced formality. "I've been meaning to tell you something."

Jenny held Natalie closer, almost as if she needed her for comfort, and set her shoulders back.

"Yeah?" she asked, bristling warily.

Betsy nodded.

"My Mama heard what I was sayin' about you," Betsy forced out finally. "Callin' you names and such. She reckons it wasn't very Christian of me." Betsy flashed a winning smile. "I've meant to apologize," she said with an air of feigned grace. "And Mama says any time you need, I should babysit for you, 'cause its respectable you're still in school."

Jenny didn't say anything.

Betsy turned to Gibbs and gave him a little wave. She bent to Natalie's eye-level.

"Bye sweetheart," she cooed. She gave a sort of signal to Maggie Hart, and started off. "You let me know if you want me to," Betsy said musically. She winked. "Maybe you and Jethro can go have some _alooone_ -time."

Maggie started off, giggling a little.

"Not too much," she muttered loudly.

Alison stood there with Gibbs and Jenny for a moment, and then gave a protracted roll of her eyes, and hoisted her cheerleading bag over her shoulder more securely.

"You know I'm not one of them, Jenny," she sighed dramatically. " _I_ don't think Gibbs is sexier because he has a baby."

Jenny gave her a wry little smile, and shrugged, turning her attention to Natalie. She brushed the baby's fine hair back, and leaned forward to kiss her gently on the forehead.

"Go on, Alison," Jenny murmured. "I need you behind enemy lines."

Alison gave a lazy salute and skipped off, leaving them alone. Jenny fussed over Natalie for a moment, and in the silence, Gibbs stared at her, managing to unclench his jaw.

"Sexier?" he grunted. "What's she talkin' about."

"That's the consensus," Jenny said coolly, without looking up – she was focusing on trying to make a cow-licked part of Natalie's hair lie flat. "Among the birds of Stillwater High – you're just _to die for_ now that you're a Daddy, and I'm still a damnable tramp."

Gibbs snorted, and furrowed his brow.

"That's stupid, Jen," he scoffed.

She stepped forward and sat Natalie on the edge of the tailgate, holding her securely and bending down so she was eye-level with her daughter. She met the baby's soft blue eyes, and tilted her head, giving her a matter-of-fact look.

"That's how the world works for girls," she said, more to Natalie than to Gibbs – it was sound advice, and Jenny herself was realizing more and more, every day, how unfair the world could be to her, just because she was a _girl_.

No one seemed to think Gibbs was ruined, easy, irresponsible – a honey trap. Girls like Betsy thought the was heroic, for doing exactly what a man should do for his child, and older women seemed to think it was an admirable sacrifice that he worked so much while Jenny ' _didn't'_ – or so they assumed. No – no one seemed to think Gibbs was ruined, but everyone quietly whispered that Jenny was.

Gibbs shifted, drawing his leg up and resting his arm on it. He moved forward a little, so he was behind Natalie in case she wanted to lunge backwards – another new favorite past time – and he considered Jenny's bent head.

"How'd it go?" he asked finally.

His voice was low, wary; she liked the cautious, throaty tone of it. She loved Gibbs' voice – somehow, it always seemed soothing to her – at least, when he wasn't angry.

She closed her eyes heavily, silent for a while. She shook her head, opened her eyes, and looked at Natalie intently for a moment.

"Not well," she admitted finally, her voice soft.

She straightened a little, her hands on either side of Natalie, standing so close to the truck bed that if Natalie wriggled forward, she'd fall right against her mother's stomach safely. Jenny met Gibbs' eyes, and her shoulders fell a little.

She'd been here at a progress meeting – trying to work out her schedule, argue about her grades, her credits, her AP classes – being allowed to move on to the senior year, even.

She'd come alone, without her father, because he told her it was her responsibility, and she'd come with a lot of false confidence, because the truth was, she was struggling so hard, and half of her had wanted to give up, as she sat there and argued her case with the principal and the guidance counselor.

Natalie leaned forward and smushed her face against Jenny's chest, smearing zinc on her shirt. It didn't faze Jenny; she just tilted the child's head up and bent to kiss her on the head. She rested her cheek lightly on Natalie's crown, bent at an odd angle.

"What's wrong, Jen?"

She shook her head a little.

"They're making me drop my AP classes," she murmured quietly.

Gibbs bristled, glaring at her.

"What the hell?" he burst out. His cheeks flamed. "But you've been – "

"I know."

"I 'been workin' my ass off so you can spend all your free time – "

"I know, _Jethro_!"

She looked at him miserably, and he shook his head, quieting a little.

"'M not yellin' at you, Jen, s'not your fault – I ought to go tell that bitch I never see my own daughter 'cause I been tryin' to make sure you can keep your grades up – "

Jenny just shook her head a little. She straightened up again, and she picked Natalie up, cuddling her tightly against her shoulder.

"It doesn't matter," she muttered. She licked her lips anxiously. "My grades fell hard, Jethro," she confessed quietly.

He furrowed his brow – he knew that; her father nagged her about it, Gibbs' mother worried about it - but it wasn't that Jenny was stupid, or careless, or not trying – she was just _busy_. She was tired and stressed and even back at school full time, she had to miss days unexpectedly.

"I – it's because I was homebound for so long," she choked out. "And since then – well, they're cutting me slack, but I've missed so many days I'm technically truant – and APs have an attendance policy –"

"But you've got an excuse, Jen!"

She shrugged, giving him a desperate look.

"Well, yeah, but it's not fair to everyone else!" she retorted, resting her hand on Natalie's head. "I know I'm not – off at an amusement park, but they're all held to the attendance standard, and they obviously can't give me special treatment because I had a _baby_!"

She laughed sarcastically.

"God forbid it look like they're rewarding the girl who had a baby!"

"But it's not a goddamn reward – you're tryin' to take care of her, how're we s'pose to do that without a high school diploma – "

"We're in Stillwater, Jethro," she interrupted bitterly. "You think that logic is there? Keep dreaming."

He fell silent. She sighed, and stroked the baby's hair. She swallowed a few times, and then took a deep breath.

"They wouldn't cut you any slack?"

She compressed her lips. When she finally spoke, her voice was shaking uncontrollably.

"I'm failing Algebra and Physics," she admitted hoarsely. "I – it's not that I don't _get_ the material, but I've been spending all my time on the AP coursework and I'm keeping solid C's in _those_."

She swallowed hard.

"I wanted – to convince them to let me stay in the APs, but base my grade on passing the exams – you know, getting a four or a five – I even tried to negotiate a four equaling a C, and a five equaling a B, but – "

She trailed off, shaking her head. Natalie wriggled, and touched Jenny's lips, patting her face. She stared at her mother, and Jenny tried not to look at her for the moment, focusing on Gibbs instead.

"They wouldn't go for it. _Unfair_ ," she quoted.

Gibbs sat forward.

"But why're they makin' you drop?" he asked tensely. "What's wrong with C's?"

"Everything is wrong with C's, Jethro!" she burst out. "And more than that, I have F's in two other classes – I know you're used to that, but I'm _not_!"

He gave her a stony look.

"I'm sorry, "she moaned. "It's just – I have to drop down to standard English, because I can pull those grades up to A's easily and have time work on the math and science – because there's no equivalent for those, if I _don't_ pass them, I have to _repeat_ junior year."

She licked her lips, shaking her head rapidly.

"I already had a baby – I can't be held back, too. I _can't_. I'll look like even more of a failure – "

"You're not a failure, Jen – "

"I _feel_ like one!" she shouted. "I was supposed to be – valedictorian and – go to Georgetown or something, that's what my Dad worked for! Instead, I had a baby, and I can barely make it through high school," she lashed out.

He jumped out of the truck, prowling up close to her. He leaned on the bed, placing his hand on her hip and pulling her towards him a little, his eyes on hers intently.

"S'not just you, Jen."

"Jethro, I know this is hard for both of us but you – you're – you'd be okay in Stillwater, you – "

"I hate it here," he said bluntly.

"You hate it because you don't like Jackson," Jenny corrected. "And that – Chuck makes your life hell, 'cause it's easy to make you fight - you're like, Marty McFly, with the fighting," she laughed hoarsely. "I mean – you'd be okay, with a little family, in a little town. You're – simple."

He arched a brow at her in amusement – he understood what she meant, but giving her a hard time was a habit of his. She bit her lip and gave him a pointed look, and then lowered her voice, reaching up to wipe at her eyes.

"I never thought my life would be holding my baby, and screaming at my boyfriend in a high school parking lot."

Gibbs still considered her, and then he turned his lip up a little, and he smiled.

"Jenny," he started, a little exasperated. "Life isn't over," he said.

"It feels – "

"I know," he interrupted heavily. "But we're just kids," he grunted – his old man had growled that at him enough for him to remember it. "We can't do anything yet. It's gonna take a few years."

"A few years for what?" she asked, exasperated.

She bounced Natalie, who was starting to get fussy – she sensed neither of her parents was particularly focused on her, despite how tightly her mother was holding her.

"Are we going to be struggling to make ends meet in some trailer?" Jenny asked, tears filling her eyes. "Have another kid because we don't know what to do? Be just like our parents? What, Jethro? What do you think about?"

He grit his teeth, frustrated with her suddenly.

"I think about Nat," he snapped, pushed to the edge with her pessimism. "I think about gettin' out of high school," he added. "I graduate in two months, Jenny – "

"And then you're home free!" she cried.

"Where the hell do you think I'm goin'?" he shouted. "I'm stayin' right here, workin' more, and I'll be able to just work, and watch Natalie – and we'll get there, and then we'll get you outta high school, and then we'll figure out – "

"But why can't you plan? Don't you understand, I panic – "

"I get it, Jen, and I know _you_ – I know how you are!" he interrupted. "You haven't realized it ain't always about planning!"

He gestured at Natalie.

"You got to be able to adjust to what happens!"

She swallowed, her eyes on him – he was right; he was so right. That was how Jethro was though – he was highly adaptable, but quiet about it; he didn't like change, necessarily, but he never raged against things beyond his control – he just met them head on. They were different people, and she'd always known that, and she loved him for it – but it scared her, his day-by-day.

She wanted to plan; she wanted to know when she'd be out of her father's house – when something would magically change, so she could run away with him.

He rubbed his jaw, and moved in close again.

"Look, Jenny," he started, his voice hoarse. "I'm trying."

She met his eyes, and she suddenly felt horrible; he looked desperate, like he thought he was failing her – and that wasn't it. She didn't know how to explain how she felt – she loved Natalie, she loved Jethro, she truly felt he was doing everything he should and could for her, and for his daughter – and god, did he love Natalie. She'd never thought a teenage boy would be so starry-eyed over a baby, but he was – and yet she still couldn't seem to understand what she wanted, why she was so frustrated so often.

Maybe it was because she really did want out, she was still trying to change this – but then, it wasn't that; because she wouldn't trade Natalie for the world, she knew that somewhere deep inside her soul – but she wanted things to be different, and she was afraid, maybe, of making the wrong choice; of being one of those unhappy women.

She imagined the only possible road for them, and the word _housewife_ seemed to dangle over her like a noose. And – what worried her was that Gibbs didn't necessarily see that as the doomed future she did.

Maybe it scared her that his idea of getting out was two cities over and a bigger house, when hers was places like Paris and Tel Aviv and Master's degrees – and –

"Da-da," Natalie started, letting out a wail.

Her face crumpled, and she started whimpering.

"Da-da-ma-ma-ma," confused, she started to babble, tears slipping out of her blue eyes.

"Oh," cooed Jenny, her attention on the baby – her instincts kicked in; suddenly the teenaged angst and selfishness was gone, and she was focused on being a mother – on her daughter. "What's wrong, baby?" she asked softly.

"Tired," Gibbs grunted, placing his hand gently on her head. He bent to kiss her. "C'mon, Jen – I'll take you to the diner for dinner."

"I don't know," she murmured. "Natalie's too young for restaurants."

He shrugged.

"Once won't hurt her," he said. He gave Jenny a defiant look, reaching for his keys. "It's about damn time we stop hidin' around this town, Jen."

She considered him for a minute, and then she smiled. She bounced the fussing baby, and turned to her.

"What do you think, Natalie?" she asked soothingly. "Can Daddy treat us to dinner?"

Natalie swiveled and reached for Gibbs, and he grinned, taking her easily. He walked around the truck, expertly situating her in the baby seat, and Jenny turned to lock up the tailgate, chewing hard on the inside of her cheek as she did so – sometimes, the single thing that gave her peace was seeing how much Jethro loved Natalie.

* * *

The aggression with which Gibbs was slapping price tags onto inventory items was annoying the hell out of his father, but Gibbs ignored every gruff look and curt order for him to _take it easy._

"Slammin' things around ain't gonna change nothin', Leroy," Jackson Gibbs growled, giving the boxes of pasta Gibbs had just dented with his force a narrow look.

Gibbs didn't say anything. He slammed something else down.

"You listenin' to me, son?"

Gibbs slammed something pointedly, and turned to glare at his father, his shoulders stiff.

"It's sure as hell makin' me feel better."

"Well, that sure is mature of you," Jackson retorted sarcastically.

He placed another box of things down on a table, and put a hand on his hip, giving his son a stern look.

"I didn't even think you wanted to go to the Prom," Jackson snorted.

Gibbs blinked at him stonily, and then turned away. His rough hands reached for more pasta boxes to take his anger out on. He kept his back to his father, tightening his jaw to hold in his fury – why did Jackson always have to goad him; always have to act like he wasn't being noble, or gentlemanly, or – whatever the hell Jackson wanted him to be.

Jackson cleared his throat, and Gibbs envisioned him shaking his head in annoyance, starting to unload the box so Gibbs could start pricing those items, too – the cans of baked beans were next, after the pasta and the bread loaves.

Finally, just to fill the silence, Gibbs said:

"Jen wants to go to the Prom."

"She ain't your Commander-in-Chief, son," Jackson snorted. "You can just tell 'er no."

Gibbs grit his teeth, and then he looked up, finally, and caught his father's eye.

"No, _you'd_ just tell 'er no," he said curtly, his eyes flashing nastily. " _You'd_ tell 'er you don't want to go, or that you don't give a damn about the ballet," he snapped.

His father gave him a cold look.

"The ballet?" he repeated. "This about your mother again?" he asked.

Gibbs didn't answer; he looked down – at least his father had gotten the point. For Gibbs, it didn't matter that he hated stuffy events and being around massive amounts of people – Jenny wanted to go, and he liked to make Jenny happy; it wouldn't kill him. For Jackson – he was the man in the relationship, he worked, so it didn't matter how much his wife wanted to drive to Philadelphia to see the ballet, he was tired, and Ann could content herself with what he gave her.

Gibbs didn't want to be like that.

"Leroy, me and your mother are none of your business," Jackson snapped.

Gibbs shrugged.

"Me and Jen aren't yours," he bit back obnoxiously.

Jackson raised his hand and pointed sharply.

"You're in this house, you're under eighteen, you damn well are my business," he barked. "You think just 'cause you and that girl had a baby, you don't have to answer to me – you think she don't have to answer to her father – "

Gibbs slammed his hand down on the table.

"All she does is answer to him!" he interrupted. "I answer to 'im, I answer to you – hell, when Natalie's old enough, I'll bet she doesn't even realize me 'n' Jen are her parents!"

"It's up to _you_ to be the authority there," Jackson said sharply. "You make sure she knows."

"How's she supposed to know, Dad?" Gibbs growled. "Chief Shepard doesn't lift a finger for Jen unless he's tellin' her how to live her life, or if he thinks she's doin' something' wrong – "

"That man is doin' what he thinks is best, Leroy, and you ain't got no business interferin' with that. He has a right to set rules and make her follow 'em, and I can't say I blame him – the girl goes and gets pregnant, she's got to know she can't run around wild anymore – "

"She didn't get _herself_ pregnant!" Gibbs retorted. He pointed to himself. "I was there – why does everyone in this goddamn town think Jen's the only one responsible?"

Jackson arched a brow.

"She could've told you no, son; ain't nothin' that says a girl's got to put up with boys bein' boys – "

"She didn't want to say no!" Gibbs shouted. "She wanted to do it, and she's takin' responsibility for that – I've taken responsibility for that – "

"You're both just kids," Jackson said flatly.

"How're we s'pose to prove we're doin' a good job, and doin' right by our kid, if we're under house arrest, and Jen can't even leave to have a second alone with me?"

"'Cause look what happened the last time we let the two of you have some goddamned alone time all over the city!" Jackson snapped.

"You don't think we learned our lesson?" Gibbs snorted.

"It sure as hell isn't funny, Leroy," Jackson said dangerously. "You want to end up livin' in a trailer with three kids and no educations by the time you two are twenty, you go right ahead."

"She just wants to go to Prom, Dad!" Gibbs retorted angrily. "She wants a night out – you tellin' me you and Mom never had _one_ night away from - you tellin' me adults," he spat the word sarcastically, "never hire babysitters, or forget about their kids for a night – "

"Your mother isn't that selfish," Jackson said coldly.

Gibbs closed his mouth tightly – it was an insult to Jenny, and a testament to just how clueless Jackson was about his wife. Ann Gibbs wasn't selfish – she was a tried-and-true small town, military wife who'd been raised to keep a family and a house, and she was content with that; she loved her son, she loved Stillwater – but Jackson was kidding himself if he thought she'd never wanted to try something different, like a trip to the beach, or a week in New York.

Jackson was exactly the kind of man who'd see any request from her on those topics to be frivolous, or entitled – Gibbs didn't know how he'd come to think different from Jackson, or half the people in this stupid small town, but he had – half of it was meeting Jen, and learning about how her mother and her father just didn't end up getting along, but a lot of it was just intuition: Gibbs understood people beyond the surface.

Gibbs turned his back on his father, and Jackson rounded on him.

"You can stand there and think I do your mother wrong all you want, Leroy," he said dangerously, "but you do your fair share of takin' advantage of her – she watches Natalie while you work so Jenny can _study_ – I don't know why that girl hasn't gotten it through her head yet that college is out of the question – "

Gibbs whirled around, his brow furrowed.

"You're diggin' into Jen 'cause she wants to stay in school?" he hissed. He pointed to himself again. "I don't give a damn about school, Dad, but Jen's got a brain – and I want my daughter to have a brain, so if you think I got a problem with Jen needing help so she can get at least a diploma, you can go f – "

Jackson smacked his son in the back of the head hard, cutting him off mid-swear. He gave him a cold, unmoving look, his jaw tense, and Gibbs reached up to grasp the nape of his neck, fuming under the surface. He'd been an idiot to think he'd get any sympathy from his father, when he came home from Jenny's angry because of Jasper Shepard's flat-out refusal to let her go to Prom.

He was standing there, contemplating responding to the head-slap with a firm right hook, when the bell on the door rang and Jenny came in, her read hair tied up messily, long strands falling and framing her face.

Jackson turned quickly, composing himself, and Gibbs lowered his hand.

"Jen," he said, surprised.

Her black mascara was still a little smudged from earlier, and she was holding Natalie on her hip. The baby looked around happily, a bright bow decorating her cute little headband, and then grinned when she saw Gibbs walk towards her.

She put out her hands.

"Da!" she shrieked.

Gibbs, still frustrated with his father, smiled, the tension in his shoulders relaxing immediately as he took the baby. He pressed his lips to her forehead and she giggled, leaning forward and snuggling her head into his shoulder.

"What're you doin' here?" Gibbs asked Jenny, his eyes on Natalie. "Thought you were on house arrest," he added with a snort.

"Ah, well," Jenny started, shifting her weight. She licked her lips, folding her arms across her chest nervously. "Your Mom is at my house."

Gibbs looked up, arching his brows.

"What?" he asked, right as Jackson said –

"She's where?"

Ann had been arranging a display of her famous homemade fudge when Gibbs had stormed in angrily, and she'd chased him into the yard to try and figure out what had happened before dragging him back into the store to 'calm down' by putting him to work.

When Jackson had started in on him, after speaking to Ann, Gibbs hadn't noticed that she'd never come back.

Jenny turned and looked at the fudge, and then looked back, chewing her lip. She nodded.

"She came over," she said quickly. "Out of – well, she walked," she explained. "It was so – embarrassing – not her, for me," Jenny amended, shooting Jackson an earnest glance.

"What business does she have over there?" Jackson asked, brow furrowing.

Jenny took a deep breath.

"Natalie was still crying," she said softly, "she'd been crying since you left," she added, looking at Jethro, "and I was trying to calm her down, but I was still upset, and Dad was still tearing into me."

"And Mom just showed up?" Gibbs snorted.

Jenny nodded.

"She told me I'd best take Natalie and leave for a while, because she wanted to speak to Chief privately."

Jackson swore.

Gibbs looked down at Natalie.

"What's she doing there?" he murmured, more to the baby than anyone else.

Jackson Gibbs suddenly cleared his throat derisively and grabbed a box, shaking his head sharply as he started towards the storage room stairs.

"I'll give you one guess," he snapped. He shook his head again. "So much for not interferin'," he added, storming off. "That woman."

Gibbs heard him muttering to himself as he stomped up the stairs, and glared after him a moment. When the stomping turned to the creaking noises of Jackson angrily sorting things around upstairs, Gibbs took a few steps back and leaned against the table, adjusting Natalie on his hip.

Jenny stepped closer, trying to catch his eye.

"Jethro?" she prompted. "Did I miss something? Is Ann angry with me?"

Gibbs laughed and looked up, shaking his head.

"Nah," he said, a little smugly. "But I haven't seen her since she got it out of me that your old man wouldn't let you go to Prom," he explained.

Jenny raised her eyebrows.

"She wouldn't go over there and try to change his mind," she said in disbelief.

Gibbs shrugged – he hadn't told his mother because he expected to do that; he'd just been angry that Jenny was so upset, and increasingly angry that the old Colonel wasn't lightening up even a little. Ann was a fairly unobtrusive woman – she stayed out of business that wasn't hers – but it occurred to him now that she may have started to think of Jenny, and definitely Natalie, as just as much hers as Jasper Shepard's.

"Wouldn't put it past her," Gibbs grunted evenly. He tilted his head and arched a brow at Natalie. "Grandma's tougher than everybody thinks," he confided pointedly.

"He's not going to listen to her," Jenny said, exasperated, "and then I'll have it worse when I get home, because he'll think I put her up to it – "

Gibbs shook his head, snorting again.

"You should buy a dress," he said smugly. "Even the Chief ain't gonna say no to Ann Gibbs on a mission."

Gibbs pulled out a chair and sat down, placing Natalie on the edge of the table. He scooted up a little, and put one hand behind her, resting lightly on her back to catch her if she fell back. Jenny sighed and leaned on the back of one of the chairs.

"Oh, did I tell you?" she spoke up nervously. "She pushes herself up now, like this," Jenny mimicked a bridge-like position, "and then she sways, and falls, and rolls over. So I think she'll crawl early, or even walk early – maybe ten months, even. I asked my mom, she said I walked right on my first birthday."

Jenny swallowed, pushing her hair back.

"And, she plays peek-a-boo with Dad – I think she understands it, even, and for the past two nights, she slept through the night."

Gibbs arched his brows at Natalie.

"Gettin' the hang of the sleepin', huh?" he asked seriously. "Good."

Natalie reached out and grabbed his mouth, flattening her palm against his face. She giggled, her blue eyes sparkling, and he grinned.

"I scheduled her next vaccinations for, ah – the last week in May, but I might need you to take her."

Gibbs nodded, shrugging.

"Okay," he muttered, and then he turned and looked at her warily, apparently just understanding. "I don't want to," he said suddenly.

"Jethro," she protested. "I have to go to planning for senior year," she reminded him.

"But they'll stick her and she'll _cry_."

"You're used to her crying!"

"Yeah," Gibbs said pointedly, "but she'll blame me for taking her and she'll _hate_ me."

"She'll be just over six months, she doesn't understand that kind of logic," Jenny laughed.

Gibbs gave her a solemn look and then looked down at Natalie.

"She understands everything," he said sagely, winking at her. Natalie grinned again, and then reached out to tug on his shirt, pulling it towards him with baby-ish strength and bunching it in her small fingers.

Jenny rolled her eyes good-naturedly, and grinned. She leaned closer to Natalie and adjusted her bow, scrunching up her face admiringly.

"You could never hate Daddy," Jenny said matter-of-factly. "He loves ev-er-y-thing you do."

"Especially when you piss off my old man," Gibbs said seriously.

Natalie giggled, thrilled to be getting so much attention from both of them at once. She released Gibbs' shirt, and leaned forward to touch his chest, drawn in by the colours, when the bell rang again and Ann entered the store.

Gibbs' mother pressed a hand to her chest, closing her eyes a moment and coughing. She turned her head slightly, taking a few deep breaths.

"Ma," Gibbs said, distracted. "You okay?"

Jenny reached down and picked up Natalie, cradling her against her chest. She looked apprehensive, and when Mrs. Gibbs finally stopped coughing, she turned and smiled brightly, even though her cheeks were pale.

"This dust, these spring allergies," she said hoarsely, waving her hand. She took a deep breath. "Leroy, you'll pick Jenny up for the Prom at seven p.m. Jenny, your curfew is ten p.m. I feel that's a little early, but I had very little bargaining power," she said frankly.

"But – he won't – he won't watch Natalie," Jenny said, taken aback.

"No, he won't," Ann agreed. "I'll watch her. I'd like to keep her all day, if you wouldn't mind. She is my granddaughter, after all."

Jenny opened her mouth in surprise, staring.

"You don't have to – I mean – "

Ann held up her hand kindly.

"I want to," she said warmly. "You'll need time to get ready – hair, make-up, the works."

Jenny swallowed hard, and blinked her eyes a couple of times.

"I – thank you, Ann," she said in a small voice. "I don't know how you convinced him but – thank you."

Ann sighed.

"He's a very hard man to break, your father," she said wryly. "I suppose the Army made sure of that – but I did remind him that his daughter has been as good a mother as she can possibly be, without much understanding from him, and one night out is not completely undeserved."

Gibbs leaned back, and smiled at his mother proudly. Jenny bit her lip. She turned and handed Natalie to Gibbs – Natalie sat contently in his lap and beamed up at him, and he waved at her – and strolled over to Ann and threw her arms around her.

"Thank you," she said again. "Ann," she paused, pulling back a little. "You're the only one who cuts me any slack," she said, her voice cracking unhappily.

Ann rested her palm on Jenny's shoulder, and brushed a few tendrils of her hair back.

"Jennifer," she said softly. "Life itself will make you plenty aware of your mistakes and of the hardships that come with it. Your father, and my husband, mean well, but they can be very – myopic – in their view of things," she paused, glanced at Gibbs and the baby, and smiled gently. "I don't want to be responsible for chasing the two of you away," she said gently. "I don't want the first thing you do after you graduate and get married to be to move so far away from me."

Jenny smiled, nodding. She rested her hand on Ann's, and stood there a moment, just genuinely content to be given some understanding and compassion – it meant so much to her, and she valued Ann's presence in her life so much, that for once, the idea that she and Gibbs were now almost mandated to get married one day didn't scare her so much.

Gibbs picked up Natalie and held her above his head, grinning at her - one of these days, Jasper Shepard was going to accept and get used to the fact that his daughter had a baby, and he'd start acting less like a drill sergeant and more like a father if he wanted to have a relationship with Natalie.

* * *

Jenny sat up in the loft of the old Crenshaw barn, dangling her feet over the edge and enjoying the dark quiet of the night – the stars through the patchy roof, the sound of crickets – and Gibbs, refilling the oil in a lamp down on the floor.

It was a hot evening – stuffy, humid – and everything about it felt perfect, even if wasn't exactly what they had planned. Gibbs climbed back up the ladder to settle down next to her, and she laughed quietly. She leaned forward, and her hair – which had been in such a nicely done up-do earlier – tumbled over her shoulder.

Gibbs plucked a stray bobby pin out of her hair – they were littering the hay at the moment, because she'd gotten sick of the fancy hairstyle – and threw it aside. He pulled her hair back, and pressed his lips to her neck; she laughed again.

"My father would throw a fit if he knew where I was," she murmured.

Gibbs shrugged.

"We're not doin' anything wrong," he drawled.

She shook her head, biting her lip – no, not technically. They just weren't where they were supposed to be – but the dance had seemed so overrated, once they'd been there for longer than half an hour – and the people there had just seemed to create a space around them; Jenny had felt like an exhibit.

"God forbid he find out I'm deviating from the plan even in the slightest," she muttered.

Gibbs put his arm around her, and she leaned into him, looking around at the shadows the flickering oil lamp projected onto the wall. She sighed and closed her eyes, resting her head gently against his shoulder.

"That was overrated," she murmured.

"Told you," he gloated.

She elbowed him lightly, and he grinned, ruffling her hair a little. He turned his head and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"This is better."

"Yeah," she sighed.

She was silent for a moment, and then she licked her lips.

"Betsy Carmichael was right," she said dully.

Gibbs paused, and pulled back a little.

"Jen, Betsy Carmichael isn't right about anything," he said flatly. He arched a brow. "What're you talkin' about?"

Jenny shrugged a little.

"You know, a couple months ago," she muttered. "She said it looks like we broke up, because we aren't ever … together anymore."

"We're together!"

Jenny shrugged.

"Not like we used to be," she said in a small voice. She chewed on her lip for a moment, and then tilted her head, looking up at him. "We never get to be alone anymore. It's like – they've got leashes on us."

"Can you blame 'em?" Gibbs asked dryly.

Jenny didn't smile.

"But I want time alone with you," she went on quietly. "I miss it."

She looked away, looked down at her knees. She shifted her hand, taking the edge of the sash on her dress and twirling it around her fingers.

"I miss hiding up here for _hours_ when we said we were at the drive-in, or the soda shop," she murmured.

He ran his hand over her gently, pulling her into him. He turned and rested his chin on her head lightly, letting out a heavy breath.

"Yeah," he mumbled, relenting. He lifted his shoulders as if to ask – _what can you do?_ He cleared his throat. "Still like you okay, though," he drawled.

"I like you, too," she whispered. She closed her eyes. "See? We used to say we loved each other."

"Jen," he said abruptly, leaning back and looking at her sharply. "That's not what I meant – I love you," he said, stubborn. "You and Nat."

She turned towards him earnestly.

"I know," she said hoarsely. "I love you," she told him. She licked her lips quickly. "Do you ever think, though, that it's not the same?" He didn't answer, and she went on, twirling her sash tight around her finger. "I mean, we used to just – _feel_ it. You ever think now it's 'cause … we think we _have_ to? For Natalie?"

He looked at her, brow furrowed. There was a strange tug in his chest; he felt like she was trying to tell him something, like there was some _right thing_ for him to say – but he didn't know what it was. He just shook his head.

"No," he said gruffly, his voice low.

She swallowed hard, and her shoulders relaxed a little.

"You aren't unhappy?"

"Are you?" he retorted aggressively – defensive.

"No!" she said quickly. "No – I don't – well, that's not what I mean," she rambled, exasperated. She sighed and pushed her messy hair back, chewing on her lip. She blinked a few times, and her bottom lip trembled. "Natalie's almost seven months old, Jethro," she said tiredly, "and I still feel like I'm drowning – it's like no one is _used_ to this yet. And we're just – trapped – I can't imagine what this is going to be like when she's – older."

"What do you mean?" Gibbs asked shortly.

"I mean – she's a baby right now, but what about when she's two, and I try to discipline her, but my father says I'm doing it wrong, and takes over – or your mother gives me some gentle advice – and God bless her, Jethro, but what if I don't want to do something the 'old fashioned way' and then I feel horrible because she's disappointed or disapproves – I mean how are we going to do this, even when we get used to it, with all these people who think we can't?"

Her words came out in a rush, and he tried to catch them all, his eyes on her – he almost, for a split second, wished they were back at the prom, with all eyes on them – but no place to talk like this.

"I know that look in your eye!" Jenny burst out. "You're sitting there thinking we just have to take it day by day – "

"What do you want me to say, Jen?" he asked, exasperated. "We're not gonna live with them forever – we're not gonna be just kids forever – when Natalie's two, we'll both be out of high school. We can move – "

"But how – "

"I told you," he said, his voice steady. "I can join up – get us out – and that's money for college, for you. I can do it sooner, if you want – "

She reached out and seized the lapel of his suit, gripping it tightly.

"Don't leave me here alone," she pleaded. "Don't – "

"I'd take you with me, Jen!"

"You _can't_ ," she snapped fiercely. "You _can't_ have dependents on a base unless you're married – and you _can't_ have the kind of pay you need, or benefits, unless you're married – and we're too young for that – and my father would put me in the ground before he let me get married at seventeen!"

She shook her head.

"I don't want you to do that," she said, her voice softer. "If you go – he'll keep me away from your parents, Jethro, I'll be in prison. And you'll get – killed, or – "

"We're not even at war right now," he scoffed.

She shook her head, closing her eyes a moment. She leaned forward, forehead against his chest.

"I know you wanted to join the Marines, Jethro," she said softly. "I don't – I don't think that's a good idea anymore." She bit her lip hard. "Like – I can't really go to college, anymore."

Gibbs ran his hand through her hair, and tilted her head back.

"It'd only be hard for a little while," he promised hoarsely.

She took a deep breath.

"We never get to just be together anymore as it is," she said in a small voice. "Can you – Jethro, please just stop acting like the military fixes all this? I want you here. I have a year of school left. I need you to be here. And you can't – you can't break your mother's heart like that."

Gibbs fell silent, his jaw tight – that was a good appeal. She was right; his mother had never liked the idea of him joining up, because she'd wanted college – and she didn't understand why he wanted it, anyway.

"Jen," he said finally. "I want to do what's best for us. You and Natalie."

"I know," she said softly, swallowing hard. "Sometimes I think we have to re-evaluate everything. I don't know if we can just … do what we're supposed to."

She didn't clarify what she meant - she didn't know what she was saying. She just never felt sure of herself anymore, and she was always a person confident in her own opinions and actions. So much of her now was devoted to her daughter, but still had the mind of a teenage girl; she still wanted her own life. She sensed – that Gibbs had resigned himself, and not necessarily unhappily, to marrying her when they graduated, and moving somewhere twenty miles away, and living – but how often did those small town, morality weddings work?

Jenny felt the same way about Gibbs now as she did before Natalie was born; but she often felt differently about herself, and some dark part of her, in the back of her mind, was afraid she'd start to hate him if she just – accepted that this is what teen mothers did, in the small town American eighties: they got married, and they swallowed their medicine.

She slumped against him. She forced herself to calm down, to stop letting a maelstrom of thoughts she couldn't even sort out yet control her.

"I'm sorry," she murmured huskily. "I'm ruining a good night."

He didn't say anything for a long time, and then he cleared his throat.

"You know somethin'?" he asked gruffly, a little hesitant.

"Hmm?"

"Think I'd rather be home with her," he grunted.

Jenny opened her eyes a little. She smiled, and tilted her head up.

"Natalie?"

Gibbs nodded. He reached into the pocket of his suit, and pulled out a polaroid – it was a photo they'd taken before leaving, with Natalie included – an absurd memento of their high school lives: corsages, senior proms, and a baby.

Jenny looked at it, and touched the image of Natalie's face. She had that feeling of relief again, of peaceful calm, that seemed to chase away all her worries and fears – she had to keep working on accepting that her life was Natalie's now, and stop trying to make it so she'd be able to do everything she wanted _and_ be a good mother.

It just wasn't possible.

"I was thinkin' we could take her on a picnic," Gibbs said slowly, as if testing the water. He let her take the photo, still staring at it, and tilted his head, catching her eye. "Here, in the barn."

Jenny took a moment, and then looked around them. She smiled a little, her eyes on the ceiling – catching sight of stars through the holes. She looked back down at the polaroid in her hands, then leaned back against Gibbs to savor the small privilege of being alone together – and a small part of her wondered what would happen if they brought Natalie here, too – the last stronghold of more innocent days.

* * *

Exasperated, Jenny shook a bottle aggressively, shaking her head as she watched Gibbs hold Natalie's hand so she could stand tall. This was after he'd just spent a wary thirty minutes closely following her around the barn – she was crawling.

"What are we going to do when she starts walking?" Jenny asked. "I don't know how she went from barely holding herself up on her hands and knees to Speedy Gonzales in a couple of days!"

Gibbs dipped his head and kissed Natalie's cheek smugly.

"'Cause she's smart," he growled.

"Ha," Jenny laughed. She arched a brow. "What if she's trying to get away, because she's figured out we don't know what we're doing?"

Gibbs pulled Natalie into his lap and wrapped his arms around her in a loose cage, shaking his head.

"Then she'll have to figure out how to escape," he drawled seriously. He poked her gently in the stomach, tickling her, and Natalie giggled, squirming. She grabbed his hand and started gnawing on his thumb.

"Don't let her do that," Jenny whined.

"Her teeth hurt," Gibbs protested defensively – Natalie was teething, and she was happiest when someone was letting her gnaw something.

"She'll think biting is okay," Jenny retorted.

Gibbs shrugged. They could worry about that when she understood what biting actually was, in any real way. He continued to let Natalie blithely chomp on his thumb, and the baby's eyes followed Jenny's arm movements. Gibbs grinned in amusement and looked up – it was picnic day, and he still couldn't believe they'd managed to get away.

Jenny's father was on duty, and Gibbs had taken the day off work and for some inexplicable reason, Jackson hadn't had one word to say about his lack of responsibility in daring to take one day to spend _with_ his family instead of working _for_ his family.

"Here," Jenny leaned forward, and handed him the bottle, and he held Natalie firmly in his lap and held it to her lips, lazily feeding his daughter.

Jenny sat back and tucked her hair behind her ears before she picked up a sandwich, finally getting her moment to eat. She watched Gibbs for a moment, and then smiled brilliantly.

"She does look just like you," she squeaked suddenly.

Gibbs gave her a look.

"What?"

"Your mom showed me your baby pictures – aw, Jethro!" Jenny squealed. "She looks _just_ like you, when you were her age!"

Gibbs glared at her, and looked away, muttering sheepishly. Jenny kept grinning, watching him, and Natalie reached up to half-hold onto her bottle, eyes on her father. Gibbs smiled at her.

"I am the good lookin' one," he decided.

Jenny glared at him.

"Hey," she snorted. "You don't want a girl looking like you when she grows up," she teased.

"I sure as hell don't want her lookin' like you!" Gibbs retorted.

"Why not?" Jenny demanded, outraged.

"'Cause some guy might knock 'er up," Gibbs said, deadpan.

Jenny's mouth fell open, and she made a huffy noise – and then she closed her eyes and tried to resist laughing – _well_ , she thought dryly, _he has a fair point_.

"You win," she relented.

"Right, we want her to be ugly," Gibbs said, still in that solemn, half-serious tone.

"Ugly, with my brain," Jenny agreed.

Gibbs looked down of her. He considered her for a minute and then looked up and tilted his head at Jenny.

"Then what's she get of mine?" he asked.

Jenny tilted her head right back, flicking her eyes from him to the baby. She lowered her hands, holding her sandwich in her lap, and then she smiled a little, her eyes lingering on Natalie for a moment. She looked back up at him, and lifted her shoulders.

"Well, your eyes," she said quietly. She chewed on her lip. "And…I hope," she paused. "Most of what I want her to get from you isn't physical."

"Like what?" Gibbs grunted.

She shrugged. She didn't know how to put it into words – maybe his strength, his stoic nature; the way nothing seemed to get to him. She thought life might be hard for Natalie, for a while – while it was hard for them – so she'd need thick skin, and resilience.

"Quiet," Jenny decided.

Gibbs arched a brow. She smiled, lifting her sandwich to her mouth again.

"I want her to be more – observant, pensive, like you," she explained, "not hot-tempered like me."

Gibbs shrugged. While Jenny ate, he looked back down at Natalie, and he thought about that a moment – and he wasn't sure he agreed. He'd seen the way people treated Jenny since she'd gotten pregnant, and he'd seen the way she weathered it – he thought maybe girls needed to be like Jenny. He'd never been interested in a woman who wasn't.

He shook his head.

"What, Jethro?" Jenny asked, curious.

"I don't want 'er to be quiet," he said.

Jenny paused, listening.

"Ma's quiet."

Jenny narrowed her eyes.

"It would be a blessing if Natalie was anything like your mother," she said defensively, hardly believing he was using his mother as an example of what not to be.

"Not what I meant," Gibbs said tensely, looking up stiffly. "Ma shouldn't be quiet when Dad starts cuttin' out her stuff first when we're tight on money, 'stead of quittin' goin' bowling or up to see LJ Moore on weekends."

Jenny paused a moment. While she stared at him, Gibbs looked back down at Natalie. He sat her up on his thigh a little more, and she snuggled into his side, leaning back on his arm while she finished her bottle sleepily.

Jenny finished her sandwich thoughtfully – she'd never thought of Gibbs' mother as complacent, but then, Jenny only knew her when she was fighting the Colonel on Jenny's side, or giving some much needed help. She didn't really know the dynamics of Gibbs' family behind closed doors.

"Jethro," she began quietly. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

He looked up warily.

"What?"

"California," she said dully, without much ado. "I'm not eighteen yet; my parents' custody agreement still applies."

Gibbs shrugged, not really seeing the point. Natalie pushed her bottle away for a moment, and as he looked down to situate her, he realized the issue and looked back up sharply.

"How long is it?" he asked, not sure.

"Six weeks," Jenny told him, wincing.

He swallowed.

"My mom wouldn't mind if you came," Jenny began. "She'd even," Jenny laughed. "Hell, she'd even let me sleep in your room – and, she's going to get me on birth control, the pill kind," she added earnestly. "Behind Dad's back."

"I can't go, Jen," Gibbs said stiffly. "I got to work."

Jenny chewed the inside of her lip – she knew that. Even if he could afford a ticket – or if her mother bought him one, like she said she would – he wouldn't be able to take off that much work, not without losing his job – and he didn't have enough saved to meet his child support requirements.

"She doesn't have to go," Gibbs said warily. "I can take care of her – Mom will help, but, it'll give you a break, and I'll have time, I'll be out of school – "

He faltered; she was looking at him with a white face, wide eyes.

"Leave her? For six weeks?" she asked, aghast. "I can't – I can't, Jethro – I'd go crazy, I'd worry, I'd miss her so much – "

"I'll take good care of her, Jen!"

"I've never been away from her, not even for a night!" Jenny said desperately. "I can't – and my father's reaction if I tried – you can't really expect me to _leave my baby_ here, Jethro – "

"She's mine, too!" he retorted. "You think I want her gone for six weeks?"

"I'm her _mother_!"

Gibbs stared at her, not comprehending. Did she think he didn't love Natalie as much as she did? Or did she just think, despite how forward thinking she said she was, that something like this just wouldn't bother a man?

"My mother hasn't even _met_ her!" Jenny said. She didn't know why she felt so desperate – she had full custody; if it got down to the wire, it didn't matter what Gibbs wanted. "I know it's going to be hard – "

"What if she learns to walk in California?" Gibbs snapped. "Can't you just – skip this summer?"

"Jethro," Jenny pleaded.

"Can't your mother come here?"

"Jethro," she said again. "I want to go."

He looked at her in a little surprise, and she swallowed hard.

"I just want a little time away from this town," she confessed hoarsely. "Away from – whispers, and just – maybe when I get back, they'll just have gotten over it."

Gibbs pulled Natalie's empty bottle away and picked the baby up, holding her against his shoulder. He stared at Jenny, nodding a little – he supposed he understood that; the whole school year had been suffocating for her – first because she was pregnant, then because she'd nearly drowned in the stress of new motherhood and classes.

"Half the school knows I failed that Physics class," she said in a small voice. "And I know I'm supposed to make it up this summer but I just … I need a break," she managed. "I'll catch up later, I just … I'm just resigned to that."

She'd decided to persevere and stick with her AP classes – she'd felt like it was one of the few times she made her own choice, against everyone's wishes – a small way to try and wrestle control from her father or from motherhood or something. She'd stayed in the AP classes, and she'd managed to get just high enough grades on the exams to pull college credit, if she ever went - but she'd barely scraped a passing grade in math, and her science had suffered – she wasn't on track to graduate on time anymore.

"You can take the science next summer," Gibbs said gruffly. "They'll give you a diploma after summer school."

He knew plenty of guys that did that, most of 'em working with him down at the mines.

She shrugged a little, and sighed, pushing her hair back.

"Maybe," she said. "Maybe I'll – try some dual enrollment, with the community college in Bloomsburg. Or more APs, and then just get a high school equivalency and have the credits."

"You do whatever you want, Jen."

He gave him a small smile – he thought he was sounding supportive, but sometimes, when he said stuff like that, it made her feel like he didn't really care – he didn't really get it, she knew; he didn't get that she liked school, and she'd always be devastated she hadn't gotten it right.

Gibbs turned Natalie around, and the baby giggled, reaching out to Jenny. Jenny held out her hands.

"Come here, Nat," she encouraged lightly. "Come to Mama."

Natalie toppled over onto her hands and knees, prowled over Gibbs' legs, and crawled unsteadily towards her mother, smiling brightly. Jenny welcomed her with open arms, and picked her up to kiss her, pressing her cheek to the baby's.

"I'm bringing her to your graduation ceremony," Jenny announced. "I don't care what your Dad says – or mine," she said stubbornly.

She was starting to get more confident taking charge of herself, of Natalie's life; she felt like going to California would be good for that – her mother would let Jenny be the mother to Natalie, and when she came back, she'd have the gall to embrace that – maybe.

Gibbs smirked, and Jenny smoothed Natalie's hair back, nodding at the baby with a playfully serious look on her face. She pursed her lips, and tickled Natalie's chin.

"We're gonna see Daddy get his diploma, aren't we?" she asked gently, holding her close.

She looked over at Gibbs, and he nodded once, drawing his knee up. He watched them, and he furrowed his brow, setting his jaw a little tightly – instead of joining the Marines after high school, he was headed for a life of forty-hour weeks and overtime – at least for a while, at least until Jenny was out of high school. He didn't know how he was going to feel when he walked across that stage next week, but he was glad Jenny was going to bring Natalie to remind him of why he had to stay.

* * *

The day he walked across the stage was one of those surreal days during which – for a moment – he felt like he wasn't used to any of this yet; that he'd never be used to any of it. The fact that the youngest child in the audience was his child – that the baby who fussed wearily through half the ceremony was his baby – seemed unimaginable; like he was viewing Leroy Jethro Gibbs' life in abstract.

But when he was off the stage, diploma holder in hand, it all fell back into place, and he was proud to stand there with his father clapping him on the back, his mother kissing his cheek, and Jenny hurrying over with Natalie in her arms.

"Ann, Jackson," she greeted. "She got so hot – I tried to keep her quiet, but I also didn't want to miss you walk – "

"Ahh," Gibbs interrupted, reaching out to take her. "I don't mind," he said, lifting her up high, tilting his head, and looking at her with wide eyes and a smirk. "Do I, Bug?" he drawled. "Made it more exciting."

Jackson Gibbs gave him a look. Anna smiled, and reached out to touch Natalie's back affectionately as Gibbs lowered her and held her on his hip.

"She did fine," Ann said airily. "I'd expect any baby to be a little fussy during that – she calmed down when Jasper took her, Jenny," Ann added encouragingly.

Jenny nodded, glancing over her shoulder – the old Colonel was standing a bit away, his shoulders back professionally.

"She loves him," Jenny noted, a little subdued. "She's always quiet when he holds her," she added, tilting her head. She leaned a little closer, and caught Gibbs' eye. "Maybe she senses he's a better Mom," she whispered loudly.

"Oh, Jennifer," Ann said softly. "Don't say that."

Jenny shrugged. Gibbs glared at her. In another moment, Jasper Shepard was approaching. He cleared his throat, stepped forward towards Gibbs, and held out his hand.

"Good job, Leroy," he said seriously, looking the younger man directly in the eye.

Gibbs put his hand out immediately, ready to accept any praise or camaraderie Jenny's father' offered. He gave a good handshake, and nodded swiftly; Chief Shepard considered him a moment, and then said:

"You've been doin' your part," he said pointedly – and publicly, "I appreciate that. You keep doin' it."

With that, Shepard dropped Gibbs' hand, and with a short nod to Gibbs' father – and a small, sheepish sort of smile to Ann – he retreated to the back of the football field, no doubt waiting to take Jenny home.

Jenny gave him a look over her shoulder, and then grit her teeth.

"That was backhanded," she growled under her breath.

Gibbs shrugged. He didn't think it was that offensive – Shepard had a right to be suspicious, worried – maybe he sensed that Gibbs wanted to leave, wanted to try to take Jenny with him – he was telling Gibbs to keep working as much as he was telling him to keep Jenny here, and in school.

"The man's got a point," Jackson said sharply. "Leroy, it ain't gonna be no parade now that you're out of school – it's all work now, savin' up for a place – "

"Jackson, Jackson," Ann interrupted calmly, taking his arm through hers. She shook her head a little, and gave his arm a tug – indicating they should make their way to talk to Jenny's father.

Ann smiled at Gibbs, and gave a little wave to Natalie.

"You be good, Princess," she said to the baby. "We'll have fun this weekend!" she added, giving Gibbs a small wink of pride.

Jenny waited until they were out of earshot and turned, reaching up to adjust the bow in Natalie's soft hair. She leaned in to kiss her, stepping up closer to Gibbs.

"I'm going to be there from the crack of dawn until she goes to sleep," Jenny sighed.

Gibbs was taking Natalie for the next five days, part of the agreement they'd worked out since Jenny was going to California in ten days. It wasn't the same, Gibbs 'having' her while Jenny was within walking distance of his house, but it felt fair – and, he'd have the opportunity to have all the responsibility all the time, like Jenny usually did.

He was looking forward to it. He had the next two days off, by pure luck, and he'd decided not to pick up shifts, so he could spend a lot of that time with Jenny and Natalie.

A couple of guys ran by, one stopped and slapped Gibbs on the back.

"We're out, man!" he howled.

A girl who'd been in one of Gibbs' classes grabbed him and shoved him.

"He's holding a baby, you idiot!" she snapped, adjusting her cap. "Natalie looks precious, Jenny," she added, smiling gently.

Jenny smiled back nervously – she always thought even compliments were somehow underhanded, when they concerned her or her daughter.

"Pretty as her mother," Chuck drawled – Chuck being the guy Gibbs' had always loved to get into fist fights and scuffles with.

Gibbs looked tense, and Jenny touched his chest, shaking her head. Chuck laughed, sweeping off his cap and tossing it into the air.

"He ain't out," Chuck said. "He's stuck with 'er forever," he snorted.

The group moved on, with the girl in Gibbs' class shooting a nasty look at Chuck and then rolling her eyes sympathetically at Jenny. Gibbs ignored them all, and tilted his head, his eyes on Natalie.

"You don't look like a trap," he said seriously, giving her a solemn look up and down.

Natalie laughed at him, and reached up to grab at the tassel on his cap, grasping at it with her little fingers. Gibbs tilted his head back a little so she couldn't quite get it, and nodded contently, watching her follow it with her blue eyes.

"Nah, not a trap," he decided. "People want to leave traps."

Jenny smiled, sighing and pushing back her hair.

"Can't everyone just get over it?" she murmured.

She frowned, and then ran her hand over his shoulder.

"I'm really proud of you, Jethro," she said.

He gave her a look.

"I didn't do anything," he said, brushing it off.

"You stayed in school – "

"I got the bare minimum GPA," he snorted – he sounded a little too smug about it, so she whacked him in the shoulder lightly and rolled her eyes.

"I'm proud of you," she repeated. "Natalie needs us to do stuff like this," she added earnestly.

Gibbs nodded, looking over at Natalie again.

"Why'd you think I stayed in?" he muttered seriously. He reached out and tickled Natalie, watching her wriggle in his arms, grab at his fingers, and laugh happily. "I'd be in basic training if it weren't for you," he said good-naturedly.

Jenny chewed the inside of her lip, and Gibbs gave her a small little smile.

"Teasin', Jen."

"I don't know why you want to join the Marines so badly," she said softly. "I always thought it was so romantic, though – when I was younger."

Gibbs considered her a moment.

"Funny how _younger_ was last year – "

"But it feels like ten years?" Jenny finished. She nodded, looking a little nostalgic. "Yeah," she agreed softly.

Gibbs watched her for a moment, and then shrugged.

"Marines can wait," he grunted, testing the waters.

She didn't say anything; she didn't know what was going to happen.

"Are you going to miss her?" Jenny asked.

Gibbs nodded, pulling Natalie close to him.

"Yeah," he answered hoarsely, bouncing her in his arms a little. "She's gonna forget me."

"No, she won't," Jenny promised. "I won't let her."

Gibbs didn't say anything, just stood in the shade of a tree in a cap and gown, holding his daughter – she was almost eight months old now, and he wondered what she'd look like when she was back in Stillwater in August.

Natalie succeeded in grasping the tassel on his cap and pulling it off. She laughed excitedly as it fell to the grass.

"Da Da!" she cried, pointing. "Da Da!"

Jenny bent to pick it up, and after brushing it off carefully, she placed it gingerly on Natalie's head, smiling in amusement at the sight – the dark purple looked striking on her, and the cap itself was nearly as big as her.

"My, my," Jenny murmured, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Don't you look like a valedictorian?"

Gibbs shifted Natalie higher, holding her up closer to his shoulder, looking at her intently. She yanked on the tassel, pulling the cap down over her eyes a little, and he gently nudged it back up, studying her with both pride, and a sudden daunting fear of the future. He swallowed hard, and then hugged her a little closer, his eyes wandering up, and over to Jenny's father – standing so far away from them.

The Chief was watching, his cool, unreadable eyes on his daughter, and on his granddaughter, and standing there, holding Natalie, looking at her wearing his little graduation cap, Gibbs wondered if he had an inkling of how Jasper Shepard must have felt when he found out Jenny was pregnant, and the life he'd wanted for her flashed before his eyes.

* * *

 **"...and all those times I rushed to get growed up**  
 **in a hurry to become a man..."**  
 **-Eric Church; Faster Than My Angels Can Fly**

* * *

 _(perhaps this is obvious) but I kind of have a 'Church' theme going for this one._

 _please keep giving me your thoughts and theories!_

 _-Alexandra_


	4. Without You Here

_a/n: No, Jenny isn't off to California in this chapter - we've actually skipped right ahead to November, at this point._

* * *

 **Stillwater, Pennsylvania: 1985/1986**

 **Without You Here**

* * *

Gravel crunched under the tires of his truck as he rolled up the rough drive behind his father's store. He was exhausted from a day at the mines, and he was late – but he was glad to be here. As he parked, someone's dog ran happily up to the door – in Stillwater, he never quite knew whose dog was running around.

He slammed the truck door and tossed his hat into the back of the truck, bending down to scratch the dog's ears – it was a hound, and to his surprise, he realized it was one of Jasper Shepard's police hounds – a retired one, that he kept around occasionally.

"Leroy!"

Gibbs looked up, blinking in the sun, and tried to wipe at his face a little. His mother waved him over, looking extremely put together and pretty in the chilly November air. He approached her, and she rose on her toes to kiss his cheek.

"You made it," she said, with a warm smile.

He nodded – his supervisor had tried to keep him longer, but Gibbs had used what little seniority he had to put his foot down.

"Wouldn't miss it," he promised gruffly. "Where is she?"

"Oh," Ann turned, and then gestured.

Gibbs looked up – Chief Shepard had the birthday girl in his arms, but right as Gibbs caught his eye, Jenny had strolled up and taken the baby, turning and setting her down. She crouched down next to her, and whispered something encouragingly.

As Gibbs got closer, Jenny let go of Natalie, and she started to walk towards him. Gibbs stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows going up. He realized quiet a few eyes were on him, and that was understandable – last time he saw Natalie, two days ago, she'd still only been crawling.

She put her small hands out and started to run.

"Ohhh, Jethro!" called Jenny, catching her breath.

"Da Da!" Natalie cried, and promptly fell forward, scuffing her hands and her knees.

Gibbs swept her right up, reaching up to wipe her eyes before the tears could fall. Natalie's face crumpled, and she put her little arms around his neck.

"Da Da," she screeched unhappily.

He shrugged.

"Don't cry," he encouraged, smiling at her. "You can walk?" he asked, widening his eyes theatrically. He bent his head and kissed her, closing his eyes a moment. When he opened them, Jenny was standing right there, reaching up with anxious hands to paw at Natalie's hands and knees.

"She's going to be one of those kids who always has scrapes," Jenny sighed.

"When did she start walking?" Gibbs asked.

"I swear, Jethro, maybe thirty minutes ago – she got up and chased Dad's dog," Jenny said breathlessly.

Natalie laid her head on Gibbs' shoulder and snuggled up close, blinking wide eyes at Jenny.

"Da Da," she said contently.

"Yes. See? I told you he'd come," Jenny said soothingly. "He's all dirty," she laughed, brushing at his sooty shirt.

He shrugged.

"I didn't want to miss more'n I had to," he said.

He hoped Jenny didn't mind too much that he looked like he'd just crawled out of some dark hole in the middle of a mountain – even though he kind of had. He nodded his head subtly, lowering his voice.

"Your dad came?" he asked.

"And brought Moose," she answered, an excited smile touching her lips. Moose was the retired police dog that had greeted Gibbs in the driveway. "I guess he got over my extravagance," Jenny snorted.

Gibbs shifted Natalie from one arm to the other and looked over her head at Jasper Shepard – this was Natalie's _first_ birthday party, and at first he'd curtly told Jenny that it was ridiculous to throw a one-year-old a party, especially in her _situation_. He saw it as another way to celebrate the fact that she was an unwed teen mother – but Jenny just wanted Natalie to know she was wanted, and valued – even if she was little.

Gibbs snorted.

"Knew he wouldn't miss his granddaughter's birthday," he said knowingly.

"I wasn't so sure," Jenny said uncertainly.

Gibbs gave her a wry look.

"He's softenin', Jen," he told her smugly. "Wait 'til Nat starts talkin'."

Jenny folded her arms, and admired her daughter.

"Are you going to start talking soon, baby?" she asked. "Anything besides Mama, Dada?" She caught Gibbs' eye. "What do you think her first word will be?" she asked.

Gibbs cocked his head, and glanced at the top of Natalie's head. He smiled, and arched a brow.

"Irresponsible," he drawled pointedly.

Jenny laughed – well, Natalie certainly heard that word enough, whether her parents deserved it in the moment it was used or not. Gibbs grinned, and ran his hand up and down her back, a little sorry he'd missed her walk for the first time – but he worked constantly, long hours – and hard – since he'd graduated, and he was used to not seeing her as much, even though he still saw her every chance he got.

He kept her a few nights a week so Jenny could buckle down and get school work done, but she often said it just stressed her out more; she missed Natalie, and worried about her, even though she knew Gibbs took good care of her, and he had Ann if something went wrong.

Still, since the Summer – when Jenny had her in California for weeks on end – Gibbs had valued his time with her as much as possible, and Jenny had become a lot more confident in taking care of Natalie and actively being Natalie's _mother_. Apparently, Jenny's much more modern mother had been a lot less intimidating and judgmental than the old Colonel when it came to watching Jenny parent.

Natalie lifted her head and swiveled around, surveying the area – the little celebration was taking place in the Gibbs' backyard, most of it in the screen-covered porch. It was a mild winter so far, and the sun was out – it was more pleasant than November was expected to be.

Ann Gibbs approached again, smiling.

"You don't hog this sweet baby all day," she admonished gently.

Gibbs took a step back and gave her a playful look.

"She's mine, isn't she?" he retorted.

Jenny shrugged.

"Maybe," she said, deadpan.

"Lord, sweetheart, you'll give your father a heart attack," Ann laughed. She reached out and pried Natalie away gently. "You go get changed, Leroy, clean up. I can't have you lookin' like Paul Bunyan in these pictures."

"Aw, Ma – "

"Hush," Ann said.

Jenny looked at Ann with Natalie for a moment, and then cleared her throat.

"You know, I'll go with you, Jethro," she said lightly. She flashed a grin at Ann. "Can't let him put on just another plain t-shirt, can I?" she teased.

Ann tilted her head, winked a little, and nodded – she'd take care of Natalie for a moment, if Jenny wanted a moment alone to talk to Gibbs. Ann held Natalie expertly in one arm, turned her head to cough for a moment, and then carried her off towards a Church friend, no doubt to demurely show off her pretty granddaughter.

Gibbs started towards the house, Jenny at his heels, and headed up the stairs to his bedroom. She entered behind him and cracked the door, almost closing it. He took off his dirty shirt and threw it in a corner.

"I'm not that quick, Jen," he quipped.

She, on her way to pick up the shirt and place it in the correct laundry receptacle, laughed, her cheeks flushing.

"That's not why I followed you up here," she said sheepishly.

"No?"

He pulled on a wrinkled flannel shirt and buttoned it half up, launching himself over his bed and grabbing her. She giggled, and he pulled her towards him, sitting on the bed and holding her hips in his hands.

"It's been a long time," he whined.

"I know," she murmured.

She leaned down to kiss him, and his hands snaked tightly around her waist. She sighed nervously, and turned her head away. He kissed her neck.

"Not now," she mumbled.

"I know," he said right back, turning his head, trying to catch her eye.

He understood that they couldn't just strip their clothes off and go at it now – it was their daughter's birthday, and they couldn't slip away for too long. The thing was, though – they could never slip away anymore. Their sex life hadn't really suffered while she was pregnant – there was no danger in that – but it had waned understandably in the dawn of new parenthood, and since then – something had happened.

Fear had a lot to do with it – fear of some horrible accident happening, and them having another baby, trauma from the whole pregnancy experience in the first place - and the inability to ever get away from either Natalie or their parents or their responsibilities – but something had happened even since Jenny had come back from California firmly on birth control her mother had given her.

Maybe it was still just fear; maybe it was something else.

"Jen, I'll wear one, I swear," he told her.

He'd made the mistake of assuming since she was taking a pill, he was off the hook for a condom – but she'd been terrified of trusting just the chemicals, and they'd had a huge fight – the last time they'd even tried to have sex.

She turned back to look at him.

"I _know_ ," she said emphatically. "I know, it's not you," she said.

She bent to kiss him, and she tasted nervous, and guilty. She pushed her hair back.

"I'm just really trying not to get distracted, and the fact that my father came today means I know he's – he's at least respecting me a little, and I don't want to fuck that up – "

"You don't have to tell him what we're doin', Jen!"

"I know, I know! But I don't want to look like I'm slacking off – I mean I can tell he's proud of how I'm taking care of Nat, and I just – I'm afraid I'll lose what I'm gaining."

Gibbs said nothing, but he nodded after a moment. He reached out and took her hands, squeezing them tightly. She smiled faintly.

"You're working hard, too," she said quietly.

"I missed Natalie walking," he said grimly.

"She won't remember," Jenny said gently. "It's okay, Jethro."

He grunted, unhappy. She touched his cheek.

"Well, now aren't you glad I kept you home from the Marines?" she asked half-heartedly. "You'd miss a lot more."

He considered her for a moment, and then he quirked one corner of his mouth up.

"Think we need to get out on our own, Jen," he said.

"Easy for you to say," she whispered back. "You're out of high school."

She stepped back, and crossed her arms. After a moment of watching her, he got up and changed into clean jeans, his back to her. She turned and watched him move, and then cleared her throat.

"I put in a couple of college applications," she said hoarsely.

He turned around, buttoning his jeans. He arched his eyebrows.

"Thought you couldn't," he said warily. "Your physics class –"

"I'm going to try to make up the credits next semester," she said earnestly. "It's already on my schedule – I'll just need as much help as possible – and not big schools, far away – a community college in Scranton, and one in Philadelphia."

She chewed on her lip, going silent for a long time.

"How're you gonna pay for it?" he asked.

"I don't know," she sighed. "I don't have the grades for a scholarship anymore, but maybe I have the story."

"Jen, if I join the Marines, I can get you to college."

"But you'd have to leave, and I don't want you to leave me – "

"You go off to college in Scranton or Philly, you leave me!" he interrupted tersely. "I got two jobs here I can't leave for a second – I got to support you and Nat," he reminded her. "Why is it you get to talk about runnin' off, but when I do it – "

"Jethro, that's _not_ what I mean!" she burst out. "I'd want to move with you somewhere, while I'm in school – "

"With my job Jen, with _my_ job I can afford child support, but you think it can support tuition, rent, insurance – all that crap?" he demanded – he was trying to keep his voice low, lest someone hear him.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

"I'm just trying to tell you – that I applied," she said, her voice catching. "And it's such a long shot, Jethro. It's such a long shot. Do you know how hard it is for me to apply to college knowing I might not even get in? When I was top of my class?"

He stared at her numbly, and she wiped at her eyes, placing her hands on her hips.

"Dammit," she swore. "Dammit, I know I might have to – dammit, Jethro, I don't even know if I can graduate on time, if they'll let me take an extra class – if I can even handle it! And then, I'll probably have to save money – I mean, I should get a job now, even, so at least you're not breaking your back – "

"No, I'll keep working," he said sharply. "You stay in school."

She looked up at the ceiling.

"This is so hard."

He swallowed hard, and nodded. He walked forward, standing before her with his hands in his pockets – it was hard; it was so much harder than they'd ever imagined, and so much more natural at the same time. He caught her eye when she lowered her head, and gave her a strong smile.

"Natalie," he said.

She licked her lips.

"What?" she asked softly.

"Natalie's _one_ , Jen," he said.

She smiled at him, and her eyes glittered – yes; Natalie was a year old. They'd had a daughter for a year – they'd gotten a baby, happy and healthy, to a year old – with him barely eighteen, and her not even able to vote yet. She had to smile at that, because a year ago, she'd never have thought she could do it.

He bent to kiss her, and she wrapped her arms around him for a mere moment, holding on to that huge triumph.

* * *

Gibbs lay with his eyes closed lightly, calmly anticipating an unintentionally rough poke on his chest, or maybe a pat on his cheek. Tiny knees dug into his ribs as his daughter shifted, and she giggled – and then it wasn't a poke or a pat he got; her head collided full on with his.

He opened his eyes wide, shaking his head a little, and she shrieked with delight, blinking at him happily.

"Da Da," she crooned contently, beaming at him with sparkling blue eyes. She sat up, resting her weight on her heels and easing some of the pressure on his chest. "Da Da," she said conversationally, giggling. She covered her eyes, wriggling her fingers.

He furrowed his brow, feigning confusion.

"Natalie?" he asked. He pretended to shift around, turning his head this way and that – pretending he didn't see her lowering her hands mischievously. "Nat? Where'd you go?"

He frowned, and rubbed his jaw, looking as worried as he could.

"What'm I gonna tell Mama?"

Natalie yanked her hands away and lunged forward, shoving her face into his shoulder. She let out a high-pitched screech of amusement, still laughing when he sat her up gently and grinned at her.

"Da Da," she laughed, pointing at him. "Hide!" she commanded.

It was one of her few words, and it was one of her favorites. He and Jenny weren't even sure how much she understood what it meant – sure, right now they were playing peek-a-boo, so she seemed to get it; but she also tended to answer questions like 'Do you want some juice?' with 'HIDE!'

Gibbs obediently closed his eyes tightly and stayed very still. Natalie poked him in the chest, giggling through her teeth. He imagined her scrunching up her nose and glaring at him in her own little way – a mix of him and Jenny – and tried not to smile; _naturally_ he had to take the game as seriously as she did.

She poked him in the chest again, and he felt her leaning closer – but rather than let her head-butt him again – and start thinking that was acceptable – he seized her hand gently and opened his eyes dramatically, sitting forward and snatching her close. He started to tickle her.

She screamed and burst into fresh giggles, squirming and trying to get away.

"Da Da, NO!" she shrieked breathlessly. She burst into another peal of laughter. "No!" she squealed again, and Gibbs stopped tickling and let her go, because Jenny had advised him to always stop whatever he was doing to Natalie the minute she said no, even if she sounded like she was having fun.

" _I just want her to understand that_ no _is an important word,"_ she'd insist _, "besides, I hate it when people won't stop tickling me."_

Natalie got on her hands and knees and crawled around over Gibbs, settling down near his feet and picking up a Rubik's cube she'd been fascinated with earlier. She eyed the flashy colours, and then started messing with it, exerting as much strength as possible to move it.

"Bring it here, Bug," Gibbs said, sitting up a little more – he was stretched out on a couch in Jasper Shepard's living room. He wasn't necessarily supposed to be here, but the Chief was on night duty, and Gibbs was told to get out of his own house for a bit.

"Natalie," he called gently. "C'mere."

She crawled back towards him, and held the toy out obediently. She popped him in the lip with it, but he just sucked on the cut a little and ignored it, turning the colours around for her.

"If you solve it, you're a genius," he told her solemnly. "Mama plays with it in class," he said, and then frowned at it a little. "Used to," he muttered – Jenny used all of her class time to focus now; if she didn't focus, she'd fall asleep – so Natalie inherited the Rubik's cube, a symbol of the days when Jenny had breezed through school as a star student.

Gibbs offered it back to the baby, watching her intently.

"Gonna solve it?" he asked quietly.

Natalie took the toy, and began playing with it again, glancing up at him sweetly. He pulled her closer and kissed her head, letting her squirm away, giggling, and focus on the cube again.

He wondered if Jenny would be back before bedtime. Natalie always went to bed easier for Jenny. On the nights when Gibbs had her at his house, she was either excited, or fussy, or just generally unhappy with the situation. She liked sleeping with Jenny, or she liked her little room in her grandfather's house.

Gibbs frowned slightly. More and more lately, he wanted his own place for him, Natalie, and Jenny. He loved his mother, and all of her help, but he'd never get along with his father, and it was getting more and more irritating to have to navigate their parents' wishes when they had a child of their own – especially when they couldn't even live together.

He'd been trying to think of a way to make more money, to get on his own feet – he knew Jenny didn't like the idea of the military, and he had to let her graduate first anyway – but it was difficult, in this small town. He thought Jasper Shepard would have more respect for him if he made more of his own way.

Natalie crawled forward, balancing on his chest, and rolled the Rubik's cube towards his shoulder. She pursed her lips and cocked her head.

"Hide," she commanded, pushing the cube off his shoulder and down into the nooks of the couch. "Hide, hide, hide!"

He closed his eyes tightly, and turned his head away, obeying her insistent commands. She smirked and pounced on him, her knee digging into his rib sharply. Inadvertently, he twisted away from the sharp pain, and Natalie lost her balance and toppled off his chest onto the floor.

"No!" Natalie yelped. "Ouch!" she piped up.

He bolted up in a panic and reached for her blindly, horrified he'd let her fall. She'd landed on her knees, arms thrust out in front of her, and she was sitting back and blinking, rubbing the top of her head thoughtfully.

She twisted her head and peered up at him. He looked back at her guiltily, and when she smiled at him, he felt even guiltier. She got up and reached for him and he picked her up, standing her up on his knees and kissing her cheek.

"'M sorry," he muttered seriously. He looked at her knees to see if there were rug burns or anything, and then kissed her forehead, giving her a little hug. He had to learn not to react when she accidentally hurt him. "You're tough, aren't ya?" he asked, apologizing again.

"What are you sorry for?"

He looked up, and spotted Jenny standing in the doorway, sliding easily out of a nice winter pea coat. She shook some snow off of the collar and dropped the coat over the back of an armchair, her eyes curious, but a little wary.

"She fell," Gibbs admitted. "She tumbled off me." He pointed to the ground where she'd been sitting, indicating how far. "Didn't hit her head."

"I'm sure she's fine, Jethro," Jenny said calmly. "Babies are sturdy."

She dropped her bag on the floor and came forward, holding her hands out.

"Natalie," she called brightly. "Look, Mama's home!"

Natalie twisted around and reached for her, waving.

"Hi-hi," she greeted.

"Hi-hi," Jenny said back, giving her a warm hug. She sat down next to Gibbs on the couch. "What are you and Daddy doing?" she asked, smoothing Natalie's light auburn hair down. She worked out a few knots gently with her fingers, and gave Gibbs a questioning look. "I went to your house – your Dad told me you were here."

"Mom's sick," Gibbs grunted. "Doesn't want to give anything to Nat," he explained. He shrugged. "Figured I'd come over here and wait for you."

"Does my dad know?" Jenny asked earnestly. She chewed on her lip a moment, pulling Natalie closer to her. "He expects me to stay at your place when he works nights – you know he doesn't like me alone here with Natalie, not at night."

Gibbs shrugged again.

"I'm stayin' over. I'm sleepin' on the couch," he said boldly.

Jenny arched a brow and gave him a skeptical look. She smirked, and then lifted Natalie, standing her on her lap and scrunching up her face in amusement.

"Daddy is so brave, isn't he?" she asked. "He's a big man now."

Natalie giggled, reaching out to grasp at Jenny's hair gently. Jenny let her, and held her confidently, letting Natalie balance by shifting her weight from foot to foot as it suited her.

"Your mom's sick again?" Jenny asked softly, tilting her head as Natalie pulled on her red waves. "With what?"

"Says its bronchitis again," Gibbs grunted, his mouth tightening. "She had pneumonia over Christmas, though."

"She wouldn't let that go untreated," Jenny said hastily.

Gibbs wasn't so sure. The winter weather seemed to bring illness to Ann Gibbs this year – she always seemed to be coughing. She'd quit smoking, too – perhaps to attempt to assuage the cough.

"She's protectin' Natalie," Gibbs said, leaning back on the couch.

Jenny nodded, and smiled at her daughter.

"Grammy loves you so much," she told her brightly. "More than anyone else you'll ever meet – except me," she added.

Gibbs kicked her ankle gently and gave Natalie a look.

"And me," he added, affronted.

Jenny nodded, and gave Natalie a wink.

"Down," Natalie said.

Jenny let Natalie down onto the floor, and the fifteen-month-old wandered over to Gibbs, pulling on his knee. He fished out the Rubik's cube from the couch, handed it to her, and watched her sit down contently and start to play with it again.

"Bwoo," she said matter-of-factly, twisting the colours. "Bwoo," she said again, laughing at herself.

Jenny looked at her with interest.

"Oh, yeah," Gibbs spoke up. "She said a new word – _blue_."

Jenny looked around half-heartedly, and then closed her eyes and concentrated.

"What?" Gibbs asked.

"I have to remember, for her baby book. I'm keeping track of her first ten words," Jenny said earnestly.

He laughed.

"Why only ten?"

"Because," Jenny said, flushing, "my mom sent me this magazine, and it said your baby's first words might tell a story about her personality."

Gibbs rolled his eyes, and Jenny leaned back, crossing her arms and turning her nose up.

"I know it's stupid, Jethro, but I think it would be amusing – "

"Hide, No, Da Da, Mama, Down – "

"Da Da and Mama don't count, she's been babbling those since she was teeny."

Gibbs started listing words again –

"Hide, no, down, blue," he paused, thinking, and then went on, ticking off words with his fingers, "chick, curl – "

"Ah, but did we ever figure out if she's saying curl or if she's trying to say squirrel?"

"What's it matter?"

"Well, if she says curl it could mean she's going to be a girly-girl type, but squirrel might mean tomboy."

Jenny blinked solemnly, and Gibbs snorted.

"Natalie," he called.

She looked up at him and smiled, her eyes glittering. Gibbs leaned forward.

"You mean squirrel like nuts, or curl like – Mama's hair?"

Natalie blinked at him a few times, and then threw the Rubik's cube.

"Hide," she said smugly.

Gibbs swatted the toy away.

"Don't throw things, Natalie," Jenny murmured tiredly. If her father – or even Gibbs' mother – had been around, she'd have made more of a show of being authoritative and commanding, but since it was just them, she was gentler.

Natalie got up and started to explore innocently.

"What did you give her for supper?" Jenny asked quietly.

"Oatmeal."

"That's breakfast food, Jethro."

He snorted.

"But she wanted the oatmeal with the dinosaur eggs. _Swear_ she almost said dinosaur."

"Can't you say _no_ to a toddler?"

He shook his head, and then turned his head, glancing at her.

"How'd tutoring go?"

She shrugged.

"I'm on the right track now," she murmured, and then shook her head bitterly. "It's preposterous that my diploma might depend on quantum theory. I don't want to work for NASA."

Gibbs grinned.

"Now you know how I feel," he told her, giving her a pained look – he'd never thought any of the crap he was learning in high school was relevant to what he needed to know in life. That's why he didn't give a damn about college, either.

She looked over at him and pursed her lips.

"I know you don't like school," she said softly, "but don't say that stuff around Natalie. She shouldn't grow up thinking education is stupid."

Gibbs's grin faded; he looked a little sheepish.

"S'not what I meant, Jen," he said. "I want her to be smart."

Jenny nodded. She looked around at Natalie.

"I know," she sighed. "I'm just – God, if I don't pass this class, I can't have my diploma until I take the summer course."

"You'll pass," he encouraged.

But she didn't know. She might have gotten used to having a baby to worry about, but she was still always tired, still always trying to balance everything – still a step behind everyone in school, if only because she was so exhausted, it was hard to retain information – she was doing the best she could.

"I want to finish on time," she said fiercely. "I want to at least do that. Everyone thought I'd drop out. I'll show them _all_."

Gibbs gave her a small, proud smirk. Looking at her, hearing her determination – he decided to voice a thought he'd been mulling over, in the past week.

"Jen, you think the County's hiring cops?"

She lifted her head and looked at him – after taking a moment to check on Natalie, who'd decided to sit back down and start playing contently with the Rubik's cube again.

"Probably," she guessed. "If not Columbia country, then the Pennsylvania Sheriff's department," she ventured.

"Think your Dad would put a good word in for me?" he went on warily. "Can't ever figure out if he likes me."

Jenny laughed shortly.

"I don't think he's ever forgiven you for Natalie," she snorted. "Although – he loves Natalie to pieces, even if he never says it, so maybe he's thankful."

Gibbs tilted his head a little, waiting. Jenny chewed on her lip a moment.

"You want to be a cop?"

He shrugged.

"I think I'd be a good cop," he said, after a careful pause.

She pushed a handful of her hair back, and compressed her lips – she thought he was probably right. Some cops tended to be bullies, some too rigid to understand people who made mistakes – Gibbs was neither of those.

"Why the sudden interest?"

"Pay's good," Gibbs said. "Don't need a college degree, just a diploma, clean record, couple months of trainin'," he listed. He'd looked into it – it seemed like a better option than breaking his back at two minimum wage jobs and still not being able to get out of his parents' house. "I could support you on that," he said confidently.

She listened thoughtfully.

"I could get us a place, maybe in a city over – maybe get on the force in Bloomsburg," he told her. "Get us some space, out on our own," he paused, hesitating. "Could try to get you to college, eventually."

She smiled a little, but he thought it looked sad. He made her feel selfish – everything he mentioned, he remembered she wanted to go to college – and nothing he mentioned sounded like the life she'd wanted, and she was trying so hard still to accept that and make do.

"That sounds nice," she said.

He gave her a wry look.

"But it's not what you want."

She glanced over her shoulder at Natalie, playing on the floor with the Rubik's cube.

"It's not really about that anymore," she said, trying to convince herself as she said it.

Natalie looked up and held up the toy.

"Blue!" she shrieked at them, pleased with herself.

Jenny smiled at her admiringly. She blew her a kiss.

"I'll see what my Dad says about the police," she murmured, getting up and walking over to Natalie.

She crouched beside the toddler, and lifted her up easily, kissing her auburn hair affectionately. She gestured towards the stairs, and Gibbs watched her take the baby upstairs for her bedtime routine – he always felt like he was left wondering if Jenny was happy or not.

* * *

Jenny leaned against a worn wooden counter, holding Natalie lazily, her cheek close to the toddler's. Natalie pointed confidently to her left, and her mother nodded, smiling.

"Daddy," she agreed warmly, keeping her voice low. "Shhh, he's concentrating…he's got a good arm, you know," she confided.

Natalie giggled, tickled by Jenny's whispers, and Jenny grinned, relieved the child was in a good mood. Natalie had a rough ear infection two weeks ago, and she hadn't seemed over it until just recently.

"Look, look," Jenny coaxed, lifting Natalie's finger again.

With rapt attention, Natalie stared at Gibbs – he was busy playing one of those silly fair games, all in the hope of winning the eighteen-month-old a little stuffed dog, or maybe even one of the big bears.

Gibbs knocked a little ring into a bottle, and it trembled, but didn't fall. Natalie gasped, excited.

"It's rigged," Jenny called, laughing as she tried to soothe Gibbs' pride. She watched him scowl sheepishly, and hand over another dollar. "Hey, that better not be my child support!" she joked lightly.

She touched her nose sweetly to Natalie's, and Gibbs pretended to kiss the money before he winked at Natalie.

"Hang in there, Bug," he growled, pointing seriously at the biggest bear. "I'll get 'im for you."

"Hmm," Jenny murmured, tickling Natalie's stomach. "If you had an old Daddy, he wouldn't be so entertained by silly fair games," she told her. "He'd be at work all the time and he wouldn't have told his father to go to hell and whisked you and Mommy off to the fair."

She lowered her voice conspiratorially.

"Maybe you're lucky he's eighteen because he's still _fun_."

She smiled a little half-heartedly, leaning forward to kiss Natalie's temple, knowing it all went over her little head. The baby stared at her, then giggled and grabbed at her necklace.

"Fun," she repeated.

"Fun," Jenny said softly, nodding.

It was Memorial Day weekend, and despite both Jackson Gibbs' and Jasper Shepard's annoyed protestations, Jenny and Gibbs had stolen away to take Natalie to the Boalsburg Parade, a festival that commemorated Boalsburg, Pennsylvania's alleged claim to fame as the birthplace of the holiday.

The past winter had seemed endless and worse than usual; Natalie had gotten sick several times, which had sent Jenny into more than one tearful panic – she'd stayed over, desperate for Ann's help, more than a few weeks. Gibbs was getting his back broken in the mines, working all he could in the winter months when there was nothing else to do so maybe he could save something, but he never seemed to be able to keep track of where his money went – it was always something he needed to do for Natalie or buy for Natalie, and though he didn't mind providing for her, it frustrated him that there seemed to be no way out possible. And on top of that, Jenny was _still_ in school.

It felt like a lifetime since Natalie had been born, and then sometimes it felt like it hadn't been that long at all.

"What a darling little girl!"

An exclamation over Jenny's shoulder startled her, and she straightened, smoothing the front of her outfit. She knew the thin cotton wrinkled easily, and she tried hard to look put together, so maybe people would start thinking she had it all going right for her no matter what.

A middle-aged woman had stopped to look at Natalie, her eyes shining with amusement. Jenny smiled with pride – Natalie did look precious, in the little red-white-and-blue checkered sundress her grandmother had made her, accessorized with neat little blue Mary Janes and glittery red ribbons braided delicately through her always-growing hair.

If anything, she always made sure Natalie looked impeccably well taken care of – as she was – so there would be no doubt that Jenny Shepard was a good mother, no matter _how_ young she was.

"Thank you," Jenny said kindly.

She tickled Natalie's knee.

"Natalie Winter, can you say _thank you_?"

" _Merci_ ," Natalie piped up shyly, her eyes sparkling.

"Show off," Jenny said, giving her a proud look. "Her grandfather taught her that," she explained to the stranger. "He was stationed in France, once."

"What did you say her middle name was?" the woman asked, stepping closer. Her look fawned over Natalie.

"Winter," Jenny supplied.

"That's quite unique. I think I like that."

Jenny smiled. She glanced at Gibbs – he was keeping an eye on them, she could tell, but he was also still playing the game. Natalie leaned forward and clutched at Jenny, hiding her face.

"Oh, she's shy," Jenny said calmly. "She prefers her Daddy hold her in crowds."

The woman beamed.

"She is just gorgeous," she complimented. She looked between Jenny and the baby. "I don't think I've ever seen sisters with such striking eyes – if yours were blue like hers, I'd say you were twins born years apart!"

Jenny opened her mouth to correct the woman, and then she pressed her lips together and changed her mind, instead smiling graciously and accepting the compliment for both of them.

Natalie blinked her bright blue eyes, and gave a small wave.

"You all have fun at the fair," the woman wished, taking one more wistful look at Natalie before wandering off to rejoin the excitable crowds.

Jenny looked down until Natalie emerged from her cocoon and looked up at her. Natalie thrust out her arm and pointed again.

"Mama," she said smugly. " _Bear_."

Jenny turned to find her vision completely obstructed by the most obnoxious, over the top, fluffy stuffed bear Gibbs possibly could have picked out. She blinked, surprised, and then his face appeared around the bear's arm, and he gave her a smirk and gloated silently a moment.

"Rigged, huh?" he drawled, shaking the bear a little.

Jenny swatted at him, but ended up catching the bear's gaudy bowtie in her nail, and burst out laughing. She shook her head and swept Natalie off the counter, settling her on her hip easily.

"What am I going to do with that? It's bigger than Nat!" she shrieked. "It needs a seatbelt of its own!"

Gibbs shrugged, and tucked the damn thing under his arm. Natalie hung over Jenny's arm, secure in her mother's grip, and tugged on the bear's hand, holding on to it possessively.

"Bear, Daddy!" she announced, pointing happily. "Bear, bear, big bear!"

He nodded, and bent to kiss her head, before falling into step next to Jenny – close enough so Natalie could easily keep hold on her new prized possession.

"Just for you, Bug," he promised quietly.

He wrapped an arm loosely around Jenny and walked quietly for a moment, before glancing down at her.

"Why didn't you correct that woman?" he asked.

"Hmm?" she murmured, her eyes straight ahead – she knew what he meant, but she feigned innocence. She wasn't entirely sure, and she didn't know if she could answer satisfactorily – and he knew her well enough to know she was stalling, so he rolled his eyes and obliged her.

"That woman who talked like Natalie's your sister," he prodded. "Why didn't you tell her she's ours?"

She chewed on her lip, frustrated.

"I don't know, Jethro, I," she broke off, suddenly completely aware of why she'd done it. "Because," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Because Natalie is a gorgeous little girl, and people say so a lot, but whenever they find out I'm her mother, they get this look in their eye – you know, a little prim, a little appalled, judgmental," she listed, licking her lips, "and Natalie is going to start seeing faces fall when I tell them she's mine, and I don't want her thinking that there's anything wrong with me, or by association, her."

Gibbs tilted his head at her, letting the speech simmer – he hadn't expected her to get so heated; he'd just thought maybe she considered it easier not to get into it. There were always two reactions – people awkwardly excused themselves, or started to ask questions they didn't seem to realize were incredibly personal – like how old Jenny was when she'd gotten pregnant, or if the delivery was hard.

He ran his hand up and down Jenny's arm tightly, pulling her a little closer. He didn't feel the need to say anything else. He understood what she meant, but he'd love to see her throw it in their faces. Natalie was his kid, and there was nothing upturned noses or disapproving looks could do to change that.

Jenny sighed.

"What do you want to do next?" she asked, half to Natalie, half to Gibbs. "She's too little for the rides – maybe Dad was right, this was stupid," she muttered.

"Don't get like that."

"Jethro – "

"Don't _get_ like that, Jen," he interrupted heavily, frowning. He pulled her to the side, away from the dusty pathway and towards a shady tree, where they could sit on a low stone wall running along the outskirts of the fair.

"Like what?" she snapped nastily.

He gestured at her silently and reached out to take Natalie, smoothing her hair down.

"You were happy a second ago," he reminded her. "You don't have to sink into this – angry, bitter _swamp_ every time you remember life isn't exactly how you planned it."

She tilted her head up, her thighs hitting the back of the wall as she took a surprised step back. He held Natalie easily in one hand, and the large stuffed bear dangled from the other. Humming, the toddler hung herself over his arm to try and reach it, smiling wickedly to herself.

"I'm not," she started feebly.

"Yes, you always do this, every _damn_ time," he griped, narrowing his eyes. "How old does she have to be before you get over it?"

She stared at him a moment.

"Jethro," she said quietly. "I'm not ashamed of Natalie."

He swallowed hard, his neck flushing red – sometimes, he felt like she was. He felt like she was uncomfortable when he carried Natalie around town with him – because he didn't give a damn if people stared, or whispered, or _still_ gave little pitying shakes of their heads. But he felt like she wanted to hide away, or keep trying to prove that her life hadn't changed at all.

"I just don't like the way people look at us," Jenny confessed quietly.

"It doesn't matter, Jenny," he said fiercely. "It doesn't matter."

She sat down, and pushed her hair back. She folded her arms across her stomach and shook her head.

"It's not the same for you – everyone in Stillwater stopped blaming you, stopped acting like you were a failure – but everyone still looks at me like I'm dumb damaged goods – I heard one of the dressmakers saying so – ' _she's got that Gibbs boy tied up in knots providing for her, she just goes on like she never did anything wrong'_ – I'm not like that," she burst out. "Why can't they see that I'm working _just_ as hard as you are? I just _thought_ an education could get me where your hard work and architecture talent can get you!"

Gibbs tucked Natalie's head against his shoulder, bouncing her a little. He didn't want her to think she was in trouble. He rolled his eyes at the thought of one of Stillwater's three dressmakers – gossips, all of them.

"Don't listen to anything Deborah Henry says – "

"It _wasn't_ Debbie Henry, it was Melissa Fielding – "

"Her, either!" Gibbs barked. "S'long as I come home, and Natalie's smilin,' I don't care how much I work," he growled. He paused, and looked at Jenny for a long, quiet moment. "It'd make it a hell of a lot easier if I could make you happy lately, too," he added finally.

She tilted her head up at him, her hair falling down her back in a tangled mess. Her lips trembled – looking into his somewhat lost, desperate eyes, she felt like he was trying to tell her something, but she didn't let him – her own sadness poured out:

"I didn't get into college," she said, dissolving into tears. "Not a single one – even community college won't take me, because I still haven't finished that science credit."

Her shoulders shook, and she reached up to wipe at her eyes furiously.

"I missed so much more school every time Natalie was sick this winter – that's not her fault, and it's okay, I'd rather be with her – and I know you couldn't take off work, and I can't always ask Ann – "

"Jen," Gibbs said in a pained voice, "Jen, Ma wanted to help, she just hasn't been up to it lately – "

She missed the meaning in his words, and pushed her hair back again.

"I never got the science credit I missed after Natalie was born, and if I – if I don't get at least a B on my final Calculus test, I'm going to fail the class and be short a math cred – and then it's not just a summer class, Jethro, it's a – I'll get held back, they won't let me walk at all."

Gibbs stood quietly, stroking Natalie's back. He stepped closer, sat the bear down gently at Jenny's feet, and then sat next to her, shifting his daughter to his lap. She immediately crawled over to her mother's lap, and Jenny hugged her close – ever quick to make sure Natalie knew she was loved, even if her parents struggled.

Jenny fixed one of Natalie's ribbons, then kissed her forehead.

"I do love you," she assured the baby. "I love you so much."

"She knows," Gibbs said earnestly, reaching out to run his hand through Jenny's hair. "You don't have to tell her – "

"No, we should tell her _every day_ ," Jenny said firmly. "That way, even when it gets really hard – and I – I think it's going to get harder, before we ever feel like we've got this – that way she knows it's not her fault. Ever. She didn't choose us, or this."

Gibbs leaned forward on his knees, staring down at the bear. The thought that it would get harder – before it got better – had never occurred to him, not until recently. He'd always seen it going up, getting more positive; first he'd get out of school, then she would, and then he'd surprise her with the money he'd been hiding away – almost seven thousand! – and he'd ask her where she wanted to go, and get them a place. Just to get started.

But that money had to go, now, and the future seemed dimmer because of it - -because it was gone, and because of why it was gone.

"Jen," he said quietly. "J – Jen," he stuttered louder, trying to get her attention.

"What, Daddy?" she asked, her face buried in Natalie's hair. She rested her cheek on the baby's head and smiled a little sadly. "What?" she repeated softly.

He swallowed hard; his tongue felt heavy, his words thick – like molasses, or better yet, like curdled milk. He stared at the palms of his hands, worn rough and callous by constant blue collar work, and he forced himself to look at her.

"Ma's sick," he told her hoarsely.

Jenny blinked, letting Natalie stand up in her lap – she held her arms out instinctively so she'd catch the little girl if she lost her balance.

"She's always sick," Jenny noted – it was true; coughs, bronchitis, pneumonia; Ann's good health had seemed to deteriorate, but she was getting older.

Gibbs shook his head.

"She's sick, Jen," he repeated. "She's gonna need – she's real sick."

He paused.

"She's got lung cancer."

Jenny caught her breath in her throat. She froze, and then doubled over slightly, as if she'd been punched in the gut.

" _Cancer_?" she whispered.

Natalie stumbled and almost flipped right out of Jenny's arms. Gibbs caught her easily – it was a pleasant distraction - -but Natalie shrieked in fear all the same, and the noise ripped through Jenny's ears like a siren song; she flinched, closed her eyes – and no matter how tightly she squeezed them shut, his words didn't go away, and she couldn't keep from crying.

Gibbs looked at Natalie, and tried not to do the same.

Jenny put her face in her hands.

"You let me sit here and talk about a fucking class," she swore hoarsely, forgetting herself. She looked up, eyes red and swollen. "I hope you know, Jethro – I care more about Ann than I'll ever care about my grades, or high school, or college – "

Gibbs shook his head, quirking his lips up a little.

"She wouldn't like to hear that."

"It's true," Jenny said fiercely. "She's my hero. She's – she's – "

Ann Gibbs had done so much for her – helped with Natalie, offered kind advice, gentle words, an accepting and loving place to take refuse from curious eyes and disapproving glares and even the icy disappointment of her father.

"You're talkin' like she's already dead," Gibbs muttered half-heartedly.

"How bad?" Jenny asked.

Gibbs heaved his shoulders, lifting his chin as Natalie stood and stepped up to him, putting her arms around his neck and reaching around to play with the tag on his shirt.

"Treatment might help," he said. "It's expensive," he added. His mother had told him quietly – while he was putting Natalie to sleep a few nights ago – that she had to go to Philadelphia for some tests and medicine – and it was then that he'd forced the truth out of her; lung cancer, and though she said it was a recent diagnosis, Gibbs couldn't shake the feeling that this had been kept from him.

"I had some money for us," he said hoarsely. "Me'n'you and Bug, when you graduate. But Ma – "

Jenny grasped his hand.

"You take care of your mother," she said, meeting his eyes with passionate sincerity. "I won't dare let you – I can survive here, Jethro," she told him. She licked her lips. "I will get a job to help pay for her treatments!"

"Jen, you can't do that," he said, exasperated – frustrated.

He knew she'd want to help, he knew – and maybe, that's why he hadn't told her yet; or maybe, he just thought if he didn't say anything, it wouldn't be real.

She gave a manic sort of laugh.

"You're right," she gasped, "because your mother is the only person who watches Natalie for me." She licked her lips and looked at the baby, and reached out to rub her back. "Ann has been my angel, Jethro," she growled. "I'll be _damned_ if I don't find a way to help."

Gibbs rested his chin lightly on Natalie's little shoulder, and cracked a small, defeated smile. He didn't know how to feel – he was glad Jenny cared so much, but he was terrified of losing his mother. He wanted to tell himself treatment would work, but Jenny's words were ringing in his ears –

 _It's going to get harder first._

Natalie blew a kiss on his neck, and he felt jolted into reality. He cleared his throat.

"This was s'pose to be an escape," he said heavily.

Jenny swallowed hard, and stood, squaring her shoulders – she'd be the strong, sure one for now.

"I know a ride we can take her on," she said confidently, though her voice wavered and cracked a little.

Gibbs got up and followed, Natalie swiveling with interest in his arms. Jenny weaved through people, and led them to a Ferris wheel, where she turned up her eyes at the man controlling it demurely.

"I know you need to be a certain height," she crooned, "but my baby girl wants to touch the stars."

A little charmed, the man didn't put up a fight; he let Jenny and Gibbs take Natalie onto the Ferris wheel, and Gibbs held her tight as they started to drift upwards – towards the skies. Jenny held the bear in her lap blithely, watching Natalie's face light up in wonder.

She moved closer to Gibbs. She took a deep breath.

"Jethro," she whispered. "I'm going to take care of you," she said to him – like he'd told her, when she was scared out of her mind, terrified of what she'd do with a baby. "I'm going to be right here."

He turned to press a kiss to her lips, thanking her silently – he needed her; he couldn't stand this place without her, he couldn't stand watching his mother suffer – he needed Jenny to tell him he wasn't going to lose her.

He didn't say anything at all, and she said nothing more. She leaned into him, watching the stars.

"Bear," Natalie said, yanking it from Jenny.

Gibbs made sure it wouldn't fall from the height, and Natalie buried her face in it.

"Whatcha gonna name 'im, Bug?" Gibbs asked softly.

Natalie looked up at him innocently.

"Bear," she said smartly.

He ruffled her hair – and while Jenny stared over the landscape, her chest aching, wondering if this view was the most Natalie would ever see of the world, Gibbs prayed that her life would always be simple as naming a big stuffed bear – _Bear_.

* * *

It was late, and maybe Natalie was just restless – but her fussiness was unusual for a child of her age, so after a few attempts at coaxing the baby back to sleep only to have her wake up whining or crying again, Jenny sighed and carried her downstairs.

"I'll take your temperature," she muttered to no one in particular. "I don't think you have a fever." She took the last few steps carefully. "Did you have a nightmare?" she murmured. "Hmm? Something scary?" She kept stroking the whimpering child's hair, trying to quiet her. "Mommy's having nightmares," she mumbled dryly.

She sighed and navigated to the kitchen without turning lights on.

"Thermometer," she muttered to herself. "Water – you want water or milk, sweetheart?"

She entered the kitchen, and was surprised to find the light over the oven on – it cast the room in a dull, washed-out glow – and her father standing at the counter, making a sandwich. She stopped in her tracks, and he looked up.

"Late night," he grunted, without provocation. "Can't sleep."

She arched a brow – that was chatty, for the Chief.

"You're not the only one," Jenny muttered, shifting Natalie up on her hip.

Natalie continued to whine half-heartedly.

"She sick again?"

"Maybe her ear infection is back," Jenny said, shrugging. She yawned. "I think she's just hot and stuffy. That window unit in her room isn't working." She sat Natalie on the counter and brushed her hair back. "Are you hot, Bug?" she asked, pursing her lips sympathetically. "Summer is sticky, sticky, _sticky_ ," she sighed.

She picked her up again, and went to a drawer, rummaging for a thermometer. Natalie thrust out her hands.

"No," she whined stubbornly. "No stick."

"Oh, hush," Jenny retorted mildly, stifling another yawn. "It won't hurt. We'll just do under your arm," she promised.

To her surprise, Natalie was suddenly lifted from her arms.

"I got it," her father said gruffly. "Go back to bed, Jennifer."

She stood there staring at him like he had two heads, watching as he easily held Natalie on his hip, effortlessly got her to hold the thermometer under her arm, and picked up to take a bite of his late night snack with his free hand.

Jenny thought about pinching herself – was she in an alternate dimension? In what world did her father voluntarily offer to take some of the weight off her shoulders? Sure – he'd helped in absolute emergencies, and if she got really desperate, he'd silently acquiesce if she asked for help, but never – he _never_ did things like this.

"Dad – "

"You need sleep," he grunted. "You've got to pass that test this week." He took the thermometer from Natalie's arm and frowned at it. "Little high," he judged. He shook his head, glancing over at Jenny. "You were never sick," he told her bluntly. "Leroy must have given her some weak genes."

The words felt icy – not because he meant them to, but because the mention of Gibbs, and family sickness, suddenly terrified her. Cancer wasn't genetic – but she was doing all she could not to _think_ about Ann.

"I know you'd be doin' better in that class if you hadn't taken so many days for her," Jasper Shepard said finally, setting the thermometer down and opening a cabinet to grab some baby Tylenol.

Jenny folded her arms and watched him for a moment.

"Well, I – I was so tired, when I had time to study," she began.

He nodded, waving his hand.

"Here," she said suddenly, coming forward. "She'll fight you on that unless you tell her a story."

"Tell her a story?" snorted Jasper.

Jenny smiled a little.

"You know – that it's magic plum juice, to make her fly…or a special potion to make her smell good to unicorns."

The Chief blinked at his daughter, at a loss.

"What happens when she doesn't fly?" he asked logically.

Jenny took the medicine for him and poured the correct dosage into the little cap, holding it up dramatically for Natalie.

"She's not even two, Dad, her brain doesn't work like that," she said softly. "Okay Bug, what we've got here is," she paused, giving her father a pointed look.

"It's, uh," he cleared his throat seriously. "Enchanted…wine."

Jenny stared at him.

" _Really_ , Dad?"

"Sparkling…grape juice," he corrected, "that gives you…visions of sugar…plums."

Jenny rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh, and got Natalie to swallow the small dose. The little girl made a face, and Jenny kissed her cheek, and shot a look up at her father.

"Out of practice?" she asked.

He gave her an intent look.

"Until you were three, I was never home for more than two months at a time," he said.

She tilted her head.

"I didn't know that," she said with interest.

He shrugged. She'd been too young to remember. He turned and busied himself getting a sippy cup of water for his granddaughter – his food could wait.

"Jennifer," he said again. "'M serious. Go to bed. Or study."

She stepped forward abruptly and leaned on the counter.

"Daddy, I need to talk to you about something," she said spontaneously.

It was after midnight, both too late and early for deep conversations – or, depending on who you asked, just the right time. She swallowed hard when he looked at her, because she didn't know she'd had the strength to do this.

He narrowed his eyes warily.

"You're not pregnant again, are you?" he asked dully.

She almost choked.

" _God_ , no!" she exclaimed. "Between school and Natalie and Gibbs' work you think I've had time to – " she broke off, and flushed crimson. "No," she said, calming herself.

She licked her lips, her eyes on Natalie.

"I don't think I'm going to finish school," Jenny said in a rush – there was no other way to do it. "Hear me out," she added desperately, before he even said anything.

Her father gave her a long look, his face unreadable.

"You graduate in three weeks," he said finally. "Three – "

"Maybe! Who knows! They won't confirm me for it! I don't see myself passing Calculus, Dad," she said desperately. It hurt her physically to say these words. "I'm already short the science credit I never recovered. I don't want to stay another year, but I can get my high school equivalency – "

"Three weeks, Jennifer," he interrupted sharply. "You can't give up now."

She licked her lips, her heart skipping a few beats.

"I need to work," she said quietly. "Full time."

Her father looked baffled.

"Where is this coming from?" he asked tensely.

She floundered for a moment, and her eyes welled up.

"Ann Gibbs is sick," she said shakily. "Lung cancer – you know they can't afford medical bills like that."

"Leroy never should have asked you – "

"He didn't," she interrupted earnestly. "He never would – Daddy, she's my family too, she's Natalie's grandmother. I need to help, I need to – "

"Jennifer," he interrupted carefully.

Natalie shifted, and laid her head sleepily on his shoulder.

"Ann is dying," he said grimly.

Jenny closed her eyes. That was so like him, so pessimistic – but something about the way he said it infuriated her.

"You knew," she guessed. "You knew – before Jethro knew?"

Her father gave a curt nod.

"Jackson has been taking her to doctor's appointments for damn near a year," he growled. "I didn't agree with them trying to keep it from their boy, but Jack thought they could fix it."

"She needs _Chemo_ , Daddy, that doesn't mean – "

"Jenny," he said quietly, shaking his head. "That woman is dying. You can see it in her eyes. The last thing she'd want is you quittin' school to waste money on a lost cause. You got Natalie to think about."

"You don't know it's a lost cause! You're not a doctor!" Jenny burst out. Natalie startled and sat up, her blue eyes wide. Jasper shushed her, and gently pressed her head against his shoulder. Jenny tried to compose herself, but her voice cracked. "Dad, she can't _die_. If I can help them pay, they'll have more options…"

Even as she tried to argue, she understood that there was nothing she could do. She knew that Ann hadn't recently gotten sick; it all made sense now – she'd had bad coughs since before Natalie was born, and they'd attributed it to smoking. She'd been sick all winter, but they'd been focused on Natalie.

Jenny covered her face, and shoved her hair back.

"Does Jethro know how bad it is?" she asked weakly.

Her father lifted his shoulders – he didn't know. If he had to guess, he'd guess Jackson Gibb wasn't being forthright with Leroy, and that didn't sit well with Jasper. It wasn't his place to interfere, though – not unless it started to affect Jennifer's wellbeing.

"You can pass your math final," he told her seriously. "I know you can, Jenny," he emphasized. "If I have to – if I have to take leave, to watch Natalie while you study, you will pass that final."

Her eyes widened.

"You'll graduate," he said. "You'll walk, and you'll finish that science credit in the summer," he said firmly.

"Dad," she rasped.

He gave her a look of finality – she had come this far; he was going to keep her in school. He was going to see her graduate, after all of this – and he knew that's what Ann Gibbs wanted, as well. If she had thought, for a second, she could use this as a way to give up, she was wrong.

"Shepards don't _quit_ ," he told her.

"And then?" she asked, her eyes stinging. "After I graduate? Where can I work? What will I do?"

The Chief took a deep breath.

"I said I'd put in a word for Leroy with the police departments around the area," he said. "I mean it, this time."

She said nothing, and he inclined his head.

"I can get one of the dressmakers to get you a job," he added.

She swallowed miserably – one of the dressmakers; they always wanted help.

"Those old biddies, Dad – they gossip about me – "

"They won't anymore," he said sharply.

Natalie made a soft noise, and when they both looked down at her for a moment – she'd fallen asleep, despite their conversation. He seemed to struggle for a moment.

"I've been hard on you, Jennifer," he said slowly.

"You can say that again," she lashed out feebly.

"I tend to think you got the point," he said, a little sharply. He frowned to himself. "I'm not saying I'm letting you off the hook. But you had to show me that you were serious. You still have to."

"I know, Dad, I – "

He held up his hand.

"But I can ease up," he admitted grudgingly.

She felt like crying again – she waited so long to hear him give her some sort of praise, and maybe this was all she was going to get.

"My word goes a long way in this town," he growled. "If I want someone to give my daughter a job so she can support her baby, they're gonna do it."

Jenny arched her brows, slightly amused. Her smile faded quickly, though, because she remembered what had started this – she knew it was crazy to want to give up and chase a pipe dream of saving Ann, but she felt helpless; she wanted to do something – anything.

Her father cleared his throat, and shifted forward, gingerly handing the sleeping child over. He kissed her forehead tenderly and waited until Jenny had cradled her against her chest.

"Go put Bug to bed," he said gruffly, clearing his throat again. He paused. "Nothin' you make is gonna make a dime's difference in treatment for Mrs. Gibbs," he grunted. "You tell Leroy that if he needs time off to take care of his mother, I'll cover his child support for the month."

Jenny swallowed hard. She flew forward – as carefully as possible – so as not to disturb Natalie, and hugged her father. He patted her shoulder stiffly.

"He'll owe it back," he Chief said firmly. "But I'm not going to be responsible for making him miss his mother's last days."

"She can't die, Daddy," Jenny mumbled, holding Natalie closer. "She – besides Jethro, she's the only person in this town who never looked at me like I was worthless, after Natalie."

Jenny wiped at one eye, and took a deep breath, turning to take Natalie back upstairs and tuck her into bed.

"Jennifer," Jasper called, when she was at the foot of the stair. She turned to glance at him, and he lifted his chin firmly. "I do not think you are worthless," he said pointedly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm sorry if you felt like I did."

She saw that he meant it, and just for the night, it meant the world to her, and it made everything seem better – like his words were her own kind of – enchanted plum medicine, soothing her for a little while.

* * *

She passed her Calculus final with a ninety-seven percent, a feat that reassured her in several ways – for one thing, it confirmed that she hadn't gotten dumber since the baby, she just didn't have the right amount of time and energy to focus and study, and for another, it meant she was allowed to walk – she'd receive a conditional diploma, one that would be made official once she completed her remaining science credit.

Despite the fact that she'd never imagined herself being elated just to be able to walk across the stage, she wasn't bitter the day of the ceremony; she was proud of herself. She was excited she had proved she could stay in school, she was happy that Natalie was going to see both of her parents stick it out, and more than anything, she was glad her father was sitting in the front row in full uniform, holding Natalie on his lap in full view of everyone.

The only thing missing was Jethro – and his absence was not something she'd noticed until she was sitting in her spot. She didn't even care that she was seated in her alphabetical spot, when at one time she would have had a place of honor in the front row; she cared that she had achieved this, and she cared that people supported her.

She didn't see his face in the crowd – or his parents', for that matter, and it concerned her a little; she hadn't necessarily expected them to be there, not Ann and Jackson, but Gibbs –

She tried to quell her uncertainties about what his absence meant, and she focused on Natalie, giving herself confidence – she'd had this brazen little idea, as she was dressing the baby this morning, and she'd decided she was going to go through with it. This accomplishment had made her feel a kind of bravery that she hadn't been able to harness since she'd had Natalie.

She ducked out of line when they got close to the S's, and she swiftly lifted Natalie from her father's arms before he knew what was happening. To her surprise, he did not protest; he raised an eyebrow in wary curiosity.

Natalie immediately pulled Jenny's cap sideways and giggled quietly – when they called her name, Jenny walked the stage to take her diploma's place holder with Natalie on her hip, and defiantly refused to break eye-contact with the displeased, sour look on the principal's face.

She stopped in front of him, and did not hold out her hand.

"Natalie," she said softly. "Take Mama's diploma," she encouraged.

Natalie leaned forward and waved her hand. She beamed, and wiggled her fingers.

"Please," she said, pointing at the rolled up document. She placed her small hand on it, and Jenny sensed her principal was actually reluctant to give it to her – but relinquish it she did, and Jenny took it from Natalie, and held it close to her heart.

She walked off the stage, to join her class mates in their seats and wait for the moment when they could all throw their hats.

A couple seats up, Alison Flynn turned around and beamed wickedly. She held up her thumb in a positive gesture, and then blew a kiss to Natalie. Pleased to be sitting with her mother, Natalie waved back. Jenny ignored the stares she got from parents, and took a little comfort in the fact that the boy sitting next to her gave her an awed look and said:

"That was gutsy."

It had been – and she was glad she'd had the courage to do it. She had a baby, and she was graduating, and she wanted that image seared into this whole town's face. Not because she wanted to set a bad example, but because she wanted to show that mistakes could be recovered from.

When it was all said and done and Jenny was weaving through the small crowd to find her father, Natalie started babbling – conversational half-formed words mixed with the ones she knew well.

"Da da?" she asked brightly.

"We'll find him," Jenny soothed. "He's got to be – _Dad_ ," she called, catching up to her father.

"Wish you'd run that stunt by me, Jennifer," he glowered, reaching out to put an arm around her. He kissed her forehead. "Proud of you," he added gruffly.

She nodded, looking up at him.

"Where's Jethro?" she asked.

He frowned at her – but she didn't take the time to feel sorry she seemed to blowing him off; this was a big moment, and Gibbs had taken off work to be here. It should have been him holding Natalie in the audience.

Jasper frowned. He started to speak, but he was interrupted –

"Jenny! Ha, did you see the look on the Principal's face? What a _tool_ – sorry, Chief," Alison said blithely, obviously not sorry at all. "I can't believe you did that; you're my hero."

Jenny smiled faintly.

"Thanks, Alison," she said warmly.

She and Alison had become less close – for no particular reason, except that Jenny just didn't have the same social life as she used to.

"Melissa Fielding is so mad," snickered Alison, "because her niece is switching to Stillwater High, you know, and she was here today – "

"Why does it matter to _her_?" Jenny asked, annoyed. Melissa Fielding was the only person who had stood firm and refused to hire Jenny at her dress shop – after a week long break, Jenny was starting in Deborah Henry's place, instead.

"Because, that little twit was with her, and she's afraid the niece's mother will find out and take her back – her name's Shannon – "

Jenny shook her head in disbelief – she highly doubted Melissa Fielding's niece would get pregnant just from seeing another teenager with a baby. The woman was like an adult Betsy Carmichael, for God's sake.

"Al," Natalie said pleasantly.

"Hi, precious," Alison crooned. "Look at you, look at what your Mommy did," she drawled, sweeping Natalie away from Jenny. "Where's Daddy?" she asked brightly. "Jenny, where's Gibbs?"

" _Dad_ ," Jenny insisted.

Her father slipped his hands into his pockets.

"He's okay, Jennifer," he placated. He paused. "Ann's been hospitalized. She had a respiratory emergency this morning."

Jenny gave him a terrified look, her face turning pale. Alison paused, standing still, and Jenny turned, taking Natalie back possessively.

"We have to go," she said to her father. "Now."

"Jackson said he would call with an update," Jasper said.

"No, Daddy," Jenny said emphatically. "Now – and with your police lights," she insisted fiercely.

It did not take him very long to see she wasn't kidding – to see that if he didn't take her, she was likely to steal his keys and speed off without his permission. He put his arm to her shoulder, gave a small nod to her best friend, and beckoned her.

She buckled Natalie in, and sat tensely in the seat next to him the whole way to the hospital – and it was an hour away, a fancier hospital with a nice oncology unit – the fact that they had to travel so far, in itself, worried her.

"What's wrong? How serious is this? Dad, Jethro doesn't think she's this sick – "

"That's his goddamn father's fault," the Chief said bluntly, "and he'll have to deal with the repercussions of that now."

Jenny fell silent until they finally reached the facility, and then she grabbed Natalie and went running. She followed signs in the emergency room, looking around in frustration – hardly seeing the odd looks she was getting – until she heard shouting.

"Don't take that tone with me, boy – "

"She's dying," snarled – Gibbs, it was Gibbs, fighting with his father in a hallway before the entrance to the ER. "You never said a damn word – "

"Lower your voice, Leroy."

"You made it sound like she had time!"

Jenny strode up, and Jackson cleared his throat. Gibbs turned to look, his eyes going wide – his face was tensed, flushed, clearly angry. He looked over her quickly, apparently confused, and then he swallowed hard.

"Jen, you graduated," he said hoarsely. He reached out to run his hand over her robe – she was still wearing her purple robe. "I missed it," he said, strained.

"No, no," she said hurriedly. "It's okay – I had Natalie take my diploma for me, you should have seen – that doesn't matter, Jethro, how's your mom? How's Ann?"

Gibbs didn't say anything. While Jenny's father walked up, giving her an exasperated look, Jackson cleared his throat again.

"It's her kidneys," he said. "They think the cancer has spread."

Jenny looked away from him; she looked at Jethro. He didn't say anything again, staring at her, and then he turned, keeping his back to his father.

"She's bad, Jen," he said finally, his words pained.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, for lack of anything else to say. "I thought … I mean, a couple of weeks ago – I thought she was just diagnosed."

Gibbs' mouth hardened.

"So did I," he growled.

Jenny stroked Natalie's hair down.

"Is she - ?" she trailed off.

Jackson spoke up.

"She's going home in a few days," he said. "This isn't _it_."

Gibbs whirled around.

"She's not a goddamn _event_ , she's not a date on a calendar – don't talk about her like that," he lashed out.

"Leroy, you won't talk to me like that and you won't swear in front of your little girl –"

"You won't talk about my mother like she's disposable!" Gibbs snarled, raising his voice.

Jackson Gibbs' eyes flashed, but before he could light into his son, Jasper chimed in.

"Jack," he said loudly. "You think Jenny could go see Ann?"

Jackson looked at his son's girlfriend, and nodded tightly.

"They'll let you back," he said. "Leroy, you take a walk 'round this place – cool off."

"'M going with Jen," Gibbs snapped back angrily. He took Natalie and hugged her close, pressing his palm protectively against her back. "I'm not leavin' here until she's better."

"Son, you got to work – you can't just – "

But Gibbs turned and stormed off, all tight muscles and rage, and with a stressed look at the two fathers, Jenny went after him, her heels clicking on the hospital floor as she rushed to catch up without slipping.

Natalie pulled on his shirt.

"Da da," she whined.

"Jethro, you're scaring her," Jenny said, catching up and grabbing his shirt. She stopped him, stumbling forward outside a door. He turned back, letting his hand slide off the knob. "Easy, Jethro, calm down," she murmured.

She took Natalie back.

"Calm – Jen, she's had it for weeks, months maybe – "

Jenny tried to talk over him.

"Now's not the time or place," she soothed. "Don't – I don't _know_ why your father kept you in the dark, I don't know his motives, but don't do this to your mother, just – just calm down," she pleaded.

He glared at her with his teeth clenched sharply, and it took him a moment, but he started to soften.

"She can't swallow well, Jen," he said, his shoulders sagging. "She was hurtin' so bad this morning, while we were gettin' ready – I thought it was appendicitis." He fell silent, staring at Natalie. "She can't go on a transplant list with cancer," he mumbled tensely.

"Jethro," Jenny said desperately. "You have to think more positively than that. You have to, you – you just have to."

He looked at her, his brow furrowed.

"I was, Jen," he said huskily.

She licked her lips – he meant: he had been, until it hit him that this was really bad, that the seriousness of her illness had been hidden from him for months, maybe longer – and he'd been too absorbed in his own life to notice.

She reached out to touch him.

"I don't want to lose her either, Jethro," she said.

He swallowed hard, and turned to open the door.

"She's the only thing keeping me here, Jen," he warned in a low voice.

She followed him into the room, hiding his words away in the back of her mind – it wasn't the first time she had heard them; before Natalie, before sex, before all of this – he'd always said if it wasn't for his mother, he'd have hit the road –and she knew now his off the cuff comment wasn't about herself, or Natalie; he was just distraught – Gibbs wasn't usually this emotional.

"Ma?" he asked quietly.

"Is that my girl?"

Ann's voice was quiet and hoarse, but she was sitting up in bed, a magazine in her lap. She rested lazily against pillows, and had an IV in her arm, but that didn't stop her from reaching out towards Natalie with a winning smile.

"What a precious dress, Jenny," she complimented. "Natalie, you look gorgeous," Ann said gently, waving at the baby. She patted the bed next to her. "Sit, dear," she encouraged.

Jenny hesitated, and sat down gingerly, swallowing hard. She let Natalie crawl out of her arms, and Ann pulled the baby close. She then leaned over and kissed Jenny's cheek, reaching out to rub her shoulder.

"I'm so proud of you, Jenny," she said quietly, tugging on her graduation robes. "You should be out celebrating," she said wryly, "not in here with sick old me."

Jenny reached out and took Ann's hand, holding it gently, but firmly. She felt Gibbs' eyes on them both, and she shook her head.

"I want to be here," she said sincerely. She nodded a little at Natalie. "I want you to fight," she added. "We need you."

Ann smiled sadly.

"Oh, my darling," she sighed, looking from Jenny, to her son, and then down to Natalie with a resigned, nostalgic sadness. She softened her eyes, and winked lightly. "You're stronger than you think – you both are."

Ann turned her attention to Natalie, and after a moment, Jenny got up and went to stand with Gibbs, snuggling in to his side – as much for his comfort as for hers. She watched Natalie chat indecipherably with her grandmother, and watched Ann lavish that calm, unconditional wonder and attention on Natalie, and she felt the bravery that had been with her this morning fade – Ann had always been the one to smooth the edges of everything and everyone since Natalie was born –

They couldn't lose her now. Not when they were just getting the hang of this.

* * *

It happened so fast, and yet as the situation deteriorated before their eyes, it felt incomprehensibly slow and agonizing.

Jenny stood near the head of the casket at the funeral, her arm brushing Jethro's. She couldn't watch them put Ann in the ground, so she watched him, and despite Natalie's antics – it was a blessing that she didn't understand, that she kept trying to catch the butterflies that flew past her – he didn't take his eyes from his mother.

He hadn't spoken to his father for three days; he'd taken refuge at Jenny's house – he was furious, lost; and she was coping through a haze of disbelief; she didn't understand how she could be so prepared for this – so aware, from watching Ann struggle, that it would happen – and still feel shock when she was gone.

Natalie struggled and fussed, and Jenny shushed her quietly; a small town preacher was giving a blessing, while the whole town seemed to bow their heads – Ann had been so loved by everyone that the quaint historic cemetery almost couldn't accommodate them all.

 _It should be family only at the gravesite_ , Jenny thought furiously. Gibbs hated being the center of attention, he hated pity and sympathy – she knew he was miserable in so many ways, and she didn't know how she could make it better.

It had been so hard, so unimaginably _hard_. His mother had never recovered from her kidney issue; Jenny – and Gibbs, and everyone – had to watch her get worse, had to see her sometimes have good days only to have awful weeks; Gibbs lost one of his jobs while he tried to help take care of her between Stillwater and bigger hospitals; Jackson drained his savings, and Jenny struggled to make up the slack of Gibbs' missing paycheck between working, being a mother, and being there for Ann.

Her science credit was forgotten; her diploma felt like a joke. She'd never taken the class to complete it – and she didn't know where she stood on an education; she hadn't had time to keep her multiple appointments with the school board.

All the fighting, the strength, the money, the hail Marys – and Ann died anyway, on an average Thursday in early September, a week after her son's nineteenth birthday, and two months from seeing her granddaughter turn two.

Jenny felt hopeless, and lost – as if she'd lost her own mother. Ann had meant so much to her. Jenny had refused to go to California this summer, refused to take Natalie away for a second, and for that, she knew Ann was grateful; she knew Gibbs was grateful.

Natalie gave a cry of unhappiness, bored and tired, and Jenny hushed her hurriedly, her cheeks flushing. A few people looked over – not with displeasure or judgment today, but with sadness; they interpreted Natalie's distress as grief, but Jenny knew it was just Natalie being a baby.

"Shh, hush," she cooed softly. She hummed quietly.

Natalie, unfortunately, began to cry.

Tears sprang to Jenny's eyes – she couldn't keep her daughter under control at a solemn time like this, and she was having a hard enough time staying composed herself.

"Bug, _please_ ," Jenny pleaded.

Gibbs turned and took Natalie without a word, his face unreadable. He tucked her head under his chin, muffling her whimpers, and simply carried her away, disappearing from the gravesite.

Jenny bit her lip and watched him leave, unable to keep her tears back. When she blinked, they fell – and she sensed he'd had all he could take. She let him go; she stood in for him at his father's side and raised her eyes to watch them bury one of the best women she'd ever known in this town.

Jackson Gibbs bowed his head and raised his hand in a small salute; the pastor's wife laid a wreath of flowers on the casket. Jenny closed her eyes, thinking of the last few days – it had been so brutal, so distressing to watch; with the sadness, there came a guilty relief that she wasn't suffering anymore.

After a moment, she couldn't hear Natalie crying anymore, and Jasper Shepard stepped up and rested his hands comfortingly on Jenny's shoulders, passing her a flower to lay on the grave. He passed her a second, a small one, to represent Natalie, and Jenny did her job mechanically, stepping aside and away as the procession thinned out, and non-family left the site slowly.

"Jennifer," Jackson said, his voice raspy as he broke his long silence. "Tonight, you send my boy home," he asked.

Jenny swallowed hard – she hadn't tried to push Gibbs to go home, or tried to reconcile him with his father; she didn't know exactly what was wrong. Gibbs and Jackson had never seen eye to eye, and this whole tragic story had just seemed to exacerbate that.

Maybe that's exactly what Jethro wanted.

"I can't make him do anything he doesn't want to," she said hoarsely.

"You know you can, missy," Jackson said tiredly. "He does everything for you."

She bit the inside of her lip, and folded her arms, unsure what to say – she didn't entirely know why Gibbs was feeling so particularly angry at his father right now, but she needed to have his back.

"He needs to come home. Get over himself," Jackson went on, starting to move past. "He can have a little more time."

As he walked away, Jenny turned.

"Jackson," she said clearly. She stood her ground. "I _won't_ make him do anything he doesn't want to."

Jackson looked at her in utter silence, and then he smiled – he smiled as if she was clueless, as if she knew nothing. All he said was –

"He's still here, ain't he?"

Jackson turned, and left his wife's grave, and Jenny had to watch him go, unsure what she was feeling – but so sure of what he meant: they both knew Gibbs would have been long gone if it weren't for Jenny – and maybe, if it weren't for Natalie, she'd have a boyfriend in the Marines right now, instead of a hard laborer who'd just buried his mother.

Her father squeezed her shoulder.

"You want to leave Natalie with Gibbs?" he asked.

Jenny shook her head slowly.

"You go, Daddy," she said. She took a deep breath. "I'll see to him."

"You think he'll stay with us again?" the Chief asked warily – he didn't like it; he didn't like defying another parent, he didn't like Leroy even on the couch in his house, because sometimes, he still couldn't shake the annoyed grudge he had against the boy for knocking up Jennifer.

Jenny just nodded – she had a dull feeling of certainty that Gibbs wouldn't go home to his father's house anytime soon – if ever again.

She made her way in the direction Gibbs had wandered off, leaving her father – of all people – to observe the filling in of the grave. She made her way quietly, looking and listening – and then abruptly, she found him.

He was sitting down in the dirt among the roots of a tree, Natalie pressed tightly against his chest – hugged to him like life support. His forehead rested on her little shoulder, and she sat in his lap with her cheek against his head, looking up at Jenny silently.

Jenny crouched down quietly, reaching out to stroke Natalie's cheek.

"Hey there, Bug," she said softly. "Are you taking care of Daddy?" she asked, clicking her tongue soothingly. She leaned forward to kiss Gibbs' shoulder gently. "Hmm? Is Daddy okay?"

Gibbs barely moved, but his muscles were tight in the shouldesr, tense and immoveable. She went to her knees, ignoring the dirt on her dress, and reached out, slipping one arm around him. She closed her eyes and kissed his shoulder again.

Natalie lifted her head.

"Da da," she said in her high-pitched voice. "Da da, _sad_ ," she said.

"I know, honey," Jenny murmured, meeting her eyes. "Can you make him feel better?" she asked. "You tell him you love him so much?"

Natalie turned her head and nudged her nose against Gibbs. She stuck her tongue out and touched it to his ear, then veered back and giggled.

"Dah-dee," she pronounced clearly – Jenny didn't think she'd ever said 'Daddy' before – just _Da da_. "Uhv-ohh," she cooed. She nudged him again, wriggling. "Uhv-oo!"

Jenny smiled at her. She put her hand behind Gibbs' head and massaged the nape of his neck soothingly.

" _I_ love you, Jethro," she told him. "I haven't said it in a while," she admitted softly, "but I do."

He finally lifted his head – and she had to exercise a lot of self-control not to cringe, to draw back – she'd never seen Gibbs so upset, and it scared her; she'd never seen him look so distraught, so completely lost.

"It should have been him," he said finally, his voice raw.

Jenny's eyes flickered; she caught her breath.

"Jethro," she admonished.

"Don't, Jen, just – "

"No, _you_ don't," she said sharply. "Don't wish death on your father," she told him. "I know you're – I don't care how angry you are," she said seriously. "He's not the worst father there ever was."

"He killed her."

" _Why_ do you think that, Jethro," she asked, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice – she swallowed hard, steadying herself. "She had cancer. It wasn't – "

"He didn't get her treatment in time!" Gibbs burst out. He startled Natalie, and she shrank away. He lowered his voice and shushed her, before turning his face to Jenny. "I heard him apologize to her for not believing something was wrong – and then he turned things down," he lashed out. "He didn't tell me – how bad she was. He didn't do right by her."

"Treatment was so expensive," Jenny said softly. "And she … people don't survive lung cancer very often, they just –"

"He didn't tell me about her, Jen!" Gibbs snapped. "He – I could have been prepared for this!"

"They know how much we have to deal with. They didn't want us to – "

"I could have been prepared," Gibbs growled.

"Nothing would have prepared you for this loss," Jenny emphasized. "Jethro," she began, sighing. She played with some of Natalie's loose strands of hair as she tried to find words. "This isn't Jackson's fault."

Gibbs' eyes turned to steel, and she could tell he wouldn't believe her.

"He didn't do right by her," he said again. "He let her – she could have gotten a lung transplant, Jen," he said desperately. "It would have given her – two years, and he let her – he let her – "

Gibbs faltered, looking down at Natalie hard.

"He let her say no. He told her ... he discouraged her. He told her not to fight."

Jenny compressed her lips. She believed it – Jackson was a straightforward, blunt man; he faced the facts – and maybe he was wrong, in this case, but she tried not to let herself turn against him; she didn't need Natalie's paternal grandfather as an enemy.

There were a thousand arguments she could make, but she didn't have it in her to try and fix Gibbs' relationship with his father – she didn't want to make him face that right now. There was too much bitter history there that had taken root before she'd even come along.

"I miss her too, Jethro," Jenny said – it was all she said; she understood what he was feeling underneath.

He nodded, and shifted Natalie, laying her down in a cradle in his arms like an infant. He looked down at her for strength, because he felt like somehow that would get him through this – knowing that he still had his daughter, that his mother had always loved this little girl, and never resented her or bore Natalie or Jenny or him, even, any ill will.

He lifted her and kissed her forehead, and she giggled, and reached up to grab at his nose. He managed to smile at her – he always had a smile for Natalie. There were three people in the world who made Stillwater worth everything, and he had to remember two of those people still lived and breathed – and one utterly depended on him.

He turned his head, and looked at Jenny, his raw, red eyes boring into hers. He saw her study him intently, saw her shoulders sink a little.

"I can't, Jenny," he said finally, his voice hoarse. "I can't stay here."

She almost knew the words were coming – and the thing was, she didn't particularly want to stay, either; she never had. She knew what he was thinking, and that was hard, too – because he wouldn't be able to take her with him, for a while – and they'd have to recover from all this.

She didn't think she could beg him to stay this time, though; she wouldn't want him to beg her to say, and maybe they were out of options. How much longer would he work, miserable under his father's roof, to get a place for them? Things were better with her father – slowly better, Jasper was trying, so maybe she didn't have to be so scared to stay here anymore –

Without Ann, there was no one to anchor him here with gentility – with Jenny, he'd always planned to leave, run away, live their lives together forever. Without Ann, there was no one to be the peace between he and Jackson, no saving grace to fight the battles he and Jenny weren't able to fight yet.

He had to get out, or be stifled; he didn't want Natalie growing up around these people who thought she was a mistake or a sin, hearing Jackson Gibbs say backhanded things about her father – and he wanted to try to give Jenny something more than this.

He'd always planned on joining the military; he wanted to do what a man should do – take his family and provide, be on his own, and he didn't want to do it here.

"Would you hate me?" he asked her.

"I could never hate you," Jenny said shakily. "Jethro," she said. "I will not … make you stay, if you need to go. If you need to do this. But I," she paused, and her eyes filled with tears. Her voice cracked. "But I don't want to live in this town without you. I want to be with you."

He nodded, his eyes earnest.

"I'll marry you, Jen. I need some time but – I can make this work."

"I don't know," she said, so quietly he could barely hear. "I don't know what's going to happen, Jethro – I don't know what's going to work."

He looked at her like it was that simple, but she knew it wasn't – they were children. They had grown up, yes, but this tiny world they lived in was not the large world they'd find if they left, and she was afraid of what would happen to them if they got married when they were young and stupid; she was afraid she'd be miserable in eighteen years, a permanent housewife, trapped.

She understood, though, because she wondered, too – without his mother, whom no one in Stillwater dared cross or hurt, how long would either of them last here – how long could either of them be content, smothered by the small town values, by Jackson's unrelenting disapproval, by Jasper's pride and his hard-to-break old ways?

She collapsed against him and snuggled up, taking shelter against his arm in the September breeze, leaning over to tickle her baby.

"I want to run away," she said, her voice breaking again. It was ominous; it was almost a warning.

He nodded, and he looked over towards the area they were burying his mother, desperate for comfort, fervently wishing he was a kid again, that he could feel this grief without having to worry about the baby, or Jenny, or the future. He felt like he didn't have time.

"Jethro, you could be a cop," she tried weakly. "Work with Daddy – he's already got you that interview, for when you can take it – "

"I can't be around him, Jen," Gibbs said tightly – meaning his father. "I can't."

Jenny closed her eyes tightly, resigned.

"What branch will it be?" Jenny asked softly, kissing his shoulder.

She knew he'd always mentioned the Marines – but they always sent the Marines in first. The Marines were the ragamuffins, the rough bunch – the few, the proud – all of that. The Marines scared her; her father was an Army man, an officer – the Air Force would be safe –

"Marines," he grunted.

The word was so final. She swallowed hard.

"You hear that, Bug?" she asked, tickling Natalie's foot. "Daddy's going to be a Marine," she whispered tiredly, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Natalie cocked her head, and rolled over, snuggling up to Gibbs, reaching out to muss up her hands in the dirt on the other side of his leg. Jenny rested against him, watching her daughter – Natalie had not a care in the world, and that was a small, tiny beacon of light – a welcome comfort, knowing that right now, still, Natalie's whole world was simply that her parents loved and took care of her, and she understood nothing of their doubts, fears, mistakes – and uncertainty.

* * *

 **"Without you here, everything's in black and white  
Without you here, I'm upside down."  
-Eric Church; Without You Here**

* * *

 _I think this sets up chapter 5 pretty well, but y'all may end up disagreeing with me._  
 _as usual - i love your reviews so much, please keep them coming!_

 _-alexandra_  
 _p.s. - Ann died because Ann dies in the show. Generally, in most of my stories AU or not, charachters who are dead still end up dead, give or take an adjusted storyline._


	5. Over When It's Over

_a/n: and so here it is: the last chapter of the first part._

* * *

Parris Island, South Carolina / Stillwater, Pennsylvania: 1987

Over When It's Over

* * *

Once it was all said and done, recruiter talked to, physical tests passed, forms signed – after all the hurry-up-and-wait involved in the military enlistment process – Gibbs left for boot camp in January, four months after his mother's death, two months after Natalie's second birthday, and on the very first day of nineteen eighty-seven. The Marine Corps' east coast training depot was twelve hours from Stillwater, and in the three months he would be gone to be broken down and built back up, Jenny was only allowed to contact him in writing.

No phone calls, no care packages – just letters. She didn't mind writing – so she wrote, when she had time. When she didn't, she placed a quiet note from herself in the envelope, a reassurance that she loved him and missed him, and folded up whatever drawings Natalie had done that week to send along.

She hoped he liked that she was doing that, and it didn't embarrass him or anything – not that she'd ever imagine Gibbs to be embarrassed by Natalie. Despite his desperation to hightail it out of Stillwater, he'd been genuinely sorry he'd miss anything Natalie did – and she was sorry, too, though she tried not to let it be bitterness.

She didn't think he had it any easier at boot camp – she didn't want to be at boot camp herself – but the bottom line was that she was still here, working a job that barely let her save anything, enduring the looks that still hadn't faded – and they were coupled with pity now, because everyone quietly seemed to assume Gibbs had abandoned her – and dealing with the fact that she was in some kind of – limbo.

She was eighteen years old, nineteen in May, technically done with school – once she got her equivalency, since she'd missed out on her summer chance to solidify her diploma – mother of a two-year-old, and part of a long distance relationship that had an uncertain trajectory.

Back in January, most of Stillwater's youth had gone back to the various colleges they'd started at in August and September, and she watched them go, unable to shake the feeling that she should be there. It was especially hard to watch her best friend, Alison Flynn, go off to Rutgers University with a happy-go-lucky smile on her face.

Instead of classes and campus activities and internships, Jenny was working whenever she could, whenever she was needed; sometimes at the public library, but mostly at Deborah Henry's dress shop.

On this particular early March afternoon, she was steaming the wrinkles out of some sophomore's prom dress a few moments before five, keeping one eye on the machine and one eye on Natalie as she played with an etch-a-sketch in an arm chair.

"Mommy," Natalie said, turning the tablet around. "Turtle," she said, in babyish pronunciation.

The picture she showed Jenny looked absolutely nothing like a turtle, but Jenny smiled.

"Wow, Bug!" she exclaimed. "You're a regular Vincent Van Gogh!"

"Go-go," Natalie giggled smugly.

"Mmm-hmm," Jenny crooned.

"To Daddy," Natalie said.

"You'll have to draw it on paper when we get home," Jenny said. "Remember? We can only send Daddy paper things. Letters and drawings."

Natalie turned her toy back around and then shook it, laughing as the picture disappeared. Jenny smiled, and looked back at the dress – it seemed like all of the wrinkles were sorted, and she'd definitely done a fair job of repairing the rip that had magically appeared in it. The owner claimed a cat had gotten into the closet, but it looked to Jenny like someone had been playing in it in a little pre-Prom fashion show, and stepped on the hem, creating a rip near the waist.

Regardless, now Jenny was skilled enough to repair a simple thing such as that.

"Jennifer, you can go."

Walking in from the back with a basket full of things, Deborah Henry blithely dismissed the employee she'd been _gently_ persuaded to hire by Chief Shepard – though she'd ended up liking Jenny very much.

"Here's your paycheck," Debora said. "Ah – and, Jessica told me you made some unsolicited suggestions for that Fielding girl's party dress, and she intended to put you down, but Melissa Fielding was very satisfied, and that woman can be trying – so I added a bonus onto your pay," she explained, handing Jenny an envelope. "It isn't much, but – "

"Thank you, Debbie," Jenny said, meeting her eyes with relief. "It means a lot. Thank you," she said again, all sincerity.

Deborah beamed, and shrugged, turning to her basket.

"Why isn't Melissa doing her niece's dress, though?" Jenny ventured. Melissa Fielding owned the other dress shop in Stillwater – her niece, Shannon, lived two towns over with parents who were about as oil rich as you could be in Pennsylvania, but she'd elected to go to Stillwater High for her last year due to something or other at her old high school.

"Joann Fielding – that's Melissa's sister – is very strict about family and business. She pays a fortune, though," Deborah laughed. She handed Jenny a folded up bunch of fabric. "This is left over from what the Harts ordered. I thought you might like to make Natalie some clothes."

Jenny held the fabric, caught off guard for a moment, and then smiled, clutching it tightly. She tilted her head at Deborah.

"You don't have to do this," she said quietly.

"Why would I waste it?" Deborah asked matter-of-factly. She considered Jenny a moment, and then lifted her basket onto her hip. "I had my doubts about hiring you, Jennifer, you know that. Especially when your father practically forced you on me, and you hadn't sewed a gosh darn stitch in your life. But you work hard and you're not entitled. Besides," she said, shooting an adoring look at Natalie, "I don't like seeing that precious baby in frayed dresses. Now go on home."

Deborah nodded firmly, and headed into the back to start closing up shop. Jenny held the fabric to her chest for a moment, and then turned with a grateful smile, tucking it into her backpack.

"You ready, Bug?" she asked. Natalie climbed out of her chair and toddled over, tucking her etch-a-sketch under her arm. She reached up and grasped at thin air, expecting to be carried. "Nooo," Jenny drawled. "Walking is good for you, and Mommy's hands are full."

" _Stroll_ ," Natalie growled, glaring.

"I didn't bring the stroller," Jenny responded. "I carried you to work. You were asleep."

Natalie pouted, but wound her hand into Jenny's free one and acquiesced to walking. It was a nice day, and Natalie didn't need to be carried everywhere anymore, anyway.

"That fabric is enough for _three_ dresses, Natalie," Jenny said brightly, leading her slowly down the Stillwater sidewalks. "And so close to summer – maybe I'll learn to make a romper. I think there were some patterns for one in Grammy Ann's things," she said.

Her throat still tightened when she thought of Ann – Gibbs' mother had ensured that all of her feminine things – sewing patterns, costume jewelry, mementos – had gone to Natalie by way of Jenny, and for that Jenny was grateful. She'd never have imagined that one day she'd be perfectly capable of sewing children's clothing from old patterns, but her job had taught her a lot, and the needle scars on her fingers – now callouses – spoke to how much more feasible it was at the moment for her to make things for Natalie rather than buy them.

"And, since I won't have to buy you a dress, that means new shoes, and maybe a pretty little hat for Daddy's graduation, "Jenny went on. She looked down at Natalie with raised brows. "Would you like that?"

"Yeah," Natalie said, skipping along.

"Yeah," Jenny agreed confidently.

Gibbs had two more weeks of basic training, and then it was Family Day and graduation – and then he'd be back. She was especially glad for the unexpected bonus from Deborah, because it meant she didn't have to ask her mother for money to buy a ticket. She was planning on making the trek to South Carolina to see the big day, and her father – after a rather large argument – had refused to pay for the ticket unless she left Natalie with him.

It wasn't that he didn't want Jenny to go, or that he wanted to deprive Gibbs, he said, it was that Jenny had never travelled alone before in her life, at least not more than a three hour drive, and he was nervous about an eighteen-year-old on a twelve hour trip with a two-year-old. It frustrated her to no end – at what point was he going to completely start letting her take care of her daughter how she wanted to, like an adult? – but she'd resolved to ask her mother in spite of her father, and now she could do it on her own.

"You're lucky you make people love you, Natalie," Jenny sighed quietly, looking down at her daughter's head.

She had no doubt half of the reason Deborah Henry had warmed to her was because Debbie loved Natalie – just like the ladies at the library loved Natalie, and the teachers loved Natalie, and the Church biddies loved Natalie. They all wanted to cuddle her and take pity on her, even if most of them were still unfairly cold to Jenny – while calling Gibbs a young hero, for serving his country – and Jenny had decided that as long as they were respectful to Natalie, she'd put up with their attitudes. It was any moment that someone was hurtful towards her daughter that set Jenny off.

"You never did _anything_ wrong," Jenny would tell her fiercely, if Natalie looked upset, or confused. "You were born, and I love you more than anything."

It could have been worse, she supposed – her father could have kicked her out, Gibbs could have left her, run away, shirked his responsibilities. She got angry sometimes, because he was gone, and he didn't have to worry about Natalie every single day, and do this alone, but she reminded herself that he was doing what he thought was best – he _wasn't_ abandoning her.

She worked, and she studied for her high school equivalency – she studied hard – and she read Natalie books, and kept her entertained, and tried to take care of her, and she – survived, in this odd limbo, while Gibbs was gone; she kept Natalie's relationship with Jackson Gibbs intact, she wrote letters, she saved what she could, she tried to make plans – but she felt like she wasn't doing anything. She felt lost; sometimes she felt impossibly alone – she wasn't a kid, she wasn't a teenager, but she didn't feel grown.

With every passing day, she still didn't feel like she knew what she was doing; when she got used to having an infant, Natalie was one. When she got used to that, Natalie was walking and talking. She wondered what it would be like to have a preschooler, and then she almost burst into tears, so unsure of where she'd even be when Natalie was a preschooler.

She had the sinking feeling that if she was in Stillwater when Natalie started school, she'd end up trapped forever.

"Home," Natalie piped up, bouncing forward. She loosened her hand from Jenny's and darted towards the house at the end of the street.

"Chief!" she squealed, running up the lawn.

Her grandfather appeared, opening the screen door; he was in uniform, preparing to go in for a night shift, and he had the corded phone in his hand.

"Slow down, baby," Jasper yelled gently. "Natalie – " he called.

She fell – predictably – and Jenny rolled her eyes.

"Don't make a big deal about it, Dad," Jenny warned.

Looking torn, the Chief still held the phone on the porch.

"Come get this phone, I'll get her," he said.

"She can get up on her own – Natalie, did you scrape your knee? It's okay, honey, walk it off. We'll fix it up inside," she soothed. The little girl was already scrambling up. Jenny glanced to the porch as she stopped behind her daughter. "Who is it?"

"Your mom."

Jenny dropped her backpack.

"Finally," she muttered. She'd been playing phone tag all week, although now it was kind of a moot point.

She crouched down to double check that Natalie really was fine, and then left her backpack and jogged up to grab the phone. Her father wandered out, and she rolled her eyes when she saw him picking up Natalie, anyway.

"Hi, Mom," Jenny said, a little out of breath.

"Jennifer," Melanie Shepard trilled, her voice as carefree as ever. "I'm sorry, darling, life's been a bit wild lately – how are you?"

"I'm well," Jenny answered, holding the door open as her father brought Natalie, and Jenny's backpack, in the house. She shut the screen door and strolled back towards the kitchen, twisting the line around her finger.

Her father examined Natalie, and determined she didn't even need a Band-Aid. Jenny watched him play with her a moment, before letting her toddle around and getting his things together for work.

"I put a check in the mail for Princess Natalie," Melanie said warmly – Jenny could imagine her congratulating herself for what a generous and wonderful grandmother she was. "It might be late, but she won't know I missed her birthday."

Jenny laughed.

"Mom, her birthday is in November – and you did send her something," she snorted, shaking her head.

Jasper grunted, rolled his eyes in annoyance, and then gave Jenny a small wave and pointed, indicating he was heading out. He had little patience for his ex-wife's scattered brain.

"Well then," Melanie said brightly, "a little more money never hurt anyone! When are you coming to visit this summer, darling?"

Jenny hesitated.

"I know you're eighteen," Melanie said, "but I did miss you last year – Natalie too, I do love seeing her, and she must be much more interesting these days," Jenny's mother laughed. "Is that why you were calling? You know, I'm going to Honolulu for three weeks in June – but other than that – "

"Mom, slow down," Jenny murmured. She chewed on her lip. She hadn't seen her mother last year – she'd stayed in Stillwater while Ann was battling cancer, and she had sorely missed the carefree, less-stressful weeks in California. Part of her dearly wanted to go out there while Gibbs was gone, but she just – didn't think she could right now. "I don't think I'll make it," she said.

"Jennifer," Melanie sighed. "I can fly you out here – you tell your father to get over himself, it's not spoiling you if I want to see my own daughter –"

"No," Jenny agreed, "but I can't take off work – Jethro isn't working two jobs anymore, he's barely scraping his child support together with basic training pay," she said. "Me being eighteen is the issue – Dad doesn't have to support me, and he thinks I'm being frivolous, he'll cut me off so fast – "

"More than he already does?"

"Mom, he's gotten better," Jenny sighed. "He babysits now. He helps. I think he's a little pissed Jethro left me here," she added, laughing dryly.

"Oh, it won't be so bad when you marry him," Melanie laughed. "Traveling is fun – and I'm sure your man looks good in uniform."

Jenny smiled a little, and shrugged to herself.

"Anyway," she said. "He graduates basic in two weeks, and then – "

"Then you'll come visit me while he's at his next round."

Jenny's brow furrowed.

"What?"

"Well, he'll have to be trained in his MOS," Melanie said logically. "I'll talk to your father, Jennifer. I'm very – "

"Mom, he hasn't said he's going anywhere after basic," she interrupted. "What are you talking about?"

"Your father had to go to specialized training after that."

"Jethro is a Marine, not a soldier."

"I don't see why it would be any different."

Jenny frowned.

"He said he was coming home," she mumbled uncertainly.

He had said – he said he was coming back with her to Stillwater, after graduation. She wasn't sure – well, to an extent that didn't make sense. She supposed he'd have to get assigned somewhere. She just hadn't thought about it – the _one_ thing she wasn't thinking about, she should be. She chewed on her lip, and glanced around.

Natalie was gone.

" _Shit_ – Mom, hold on."

Jenny dropped the phone, letting it dangle, and dashed from the kitchen.

"Natalie?" she called.

 _Dammit_ , if her father had been here – how could she _forget_ to watch Natalie? It happened sometimes, she'd get so absorbed in something she suddenly was startled to remember she had a child. Naturally, it happened less and less and _less_ these days, but it happened.

Natalie was in her room playing with blocks, and Jenny put a hand to her chest. The little girl looked wary, and Jenny reached out and picked her up, taking her back to the kitchen.

"Not your fault, Bug," she said tiredly, reaching for the phone. "Mommy's fault – you're a good girl, playing quietly while Mommy's on the phone."

"Daddy?" Natalie asked.

Jenny shook her head.

"Two more weeks," she whispered. "Mom?"

Melanie was laughing.

"Did she escape from you? The little darling," she drawled. "Jennifer, you figure out what you need to – you know, you and Jethro could make a trip to see me your honeymoon, and then I could meet him."

"Jesus, Mom," Jenny sighed. "I don't know if we're getting married – God."

"Wasn't that the plan?" Melanie asked, surprised. "If he marries you, you can go with him –"

"Yes, but I'm _eighteen_ , I've never had a life, I've – " Jenny broke off, frustrated. These weren't the types of things she talked to Melanie about; Melanie was too carefree, too go-with-the-flow. "That's a big decision to make, and he's been gone for three months," she said, sighing. "Shouldn't you be telling me not to get married this young? I mean you – you and Dad got married young, and look at that."

"I loved being married to your father," Melanie said simply. "I love Jasper," she added blithely.

"But you got divorced," Jenny said, exasperated.

"That doesn't mean I think marrying him was a mistake," Melanie said.

Jenny frowned, and looked at Natalie, her mind going in a thousand different directions. That did seem to be the plan that was loosely in place; unspoken, never challenged – Gibbs was going to marry her, and she was going to be – a Marine wife, and go to college. It sounded so…simple, in theory. But it wasn't; she knew it wasn't. That kind of life was very different than being head over heels in puppy love in high school.

"Hello?" Natalie piped up, putting her mouth to the phone. She puckered her lips. "Heeeeellllloooo," she sang.

"Who is that?" Melanie asked playfully. "Is that my grandbaby? Oh my goodness, you sound like a little lady…"

"Mom," Jenny broke in quietly. "Can I ask you something?"

"That's what I'm here for," Melanie asked.

"If you love him so much, why did you leave him?"

"Ah," Melanie sighed. "It wasn't like that, darling," she said gently. "Your father wanted to settle back down in Stillwater, and I'd had about all I could take of that town when we visited to let you meet your grandparents – you were a baby, you don't remember," she explained. "We tried to compromise, but in the end … it was either stay together, and me be so miserable I made us all unhappy, or be apart, and be happy."

Jenny stood quietly for a moment.

"My only real regret is that I lost out on some time with you," Melanie said cheerfully, "but you – well, you like your father more – or you did, then."

"No, it wasn't that," Jenny murmured.

She'd been old enough to have a say, when they got divorced; she was a little girl whose father had always been deployed, because once Jenny had been born, Melanie elected to stay on U.S. bases when he went abroad – and Jenny was head over heels with the idea of seeing him all the time. Besides, Melanie had always treated Jenny more like a playmate and a sister than a daughter.

"I did agree that Stillwater was a better place for you," Melanie said. "Though, in retrospect – " she laughed. "Maybe if you'd had more to do, you wouldn't have gotten pregnant."

Again, Jenny was quiet.

"But is Dad happy?" she ventured. "He – he loved you. You drive him crazy, but I know he did – does. Wasn't that hard?"

Melanie sighed again.

"Yes," she said. "But Jennifer … you can't love someone right if _you_ aren't happy. I figured that out after quite a long time being angry at him for not wanting to stay with me, even if it meant giving up Stillwater. And I like him to be happy. I like to think he wants me to happy, too."

Jenny swallowed thoughtfully, turning and looking at the clock – she hardly ever talked to her mother this long –

"Something on your mind, Jennifer?" Melanie asked.

\- and never about stuff like this. Jenny started, and cleared her throat, shaking her head to herself.

"No," she said clearly. "No, I'm just distracted," she murmured. "Mom, I really don't think I can make it this summer," she said half-heartedly.

Melanie said something apologetically, and Jenny coaxed Natalie to speak more into the phone, to say hi to her grandmother – half of her wished she could have the luxury of beaches and sun and sand, and half of her wished it was Gibbs she was talking to, because she missed his voice, and his stoicism, and the way he always seemed to be so quietly sure that what he was doing was right.

* * *

As usual, in his down time, Gibbs was working on a carpentry project. He'd sketched it out first this time, so he was sitting on the edge of one of the platforms that led up to a rope obstacle course, his foot pressing on the edge of the piece of paper he was going off of. He concentrated, his Marine knife in one hand and his tongue pressed hard against his teeth. The sun was bearing down on his neck, but it wasn't that hot yet – even at Parris Island – and his skin was toughened to sunburn, these days.

He heard pounding footsteps, but he didn't look up; that girl had been running laps all day – her name was Matteson, and when everyone else was relaxing, she was always still working out. She never took a break, and now, as basic training drew to a close, the guys had stopped hounding her for trying to prove herself and started realizing she'd been working so hard to bypass them all.

Not Gibbs, though. Not yet.

He didn't look up at the sound – that is, until the sound got louder, and a shadow fell over him, and she was leaning over, hands on her knees, breathing hard. He lifted his head, and she wiped her forehead, squinting in the sun as she looked up.

"Hey," she said.

His arm relaxed, and he lowered his knife, looking at her for a minute.

"Hey," he answered neutrally.

He never talked to Matteson much. But, maybe because of that, he was the only friend she had in the barracks. He didn't bug her; he didn't rag on her, he didn't think she wasn't shit because she was a girl. He wasn't intimidated by her catching up to the men, either. He liked how she just took the bullshit from the other Marines and ignored it, and proved them wrong. It reminded him of Jen. Not in a romantic way, but in a nice way.

"Why aren't you out?" she asked.

Out – because they were allowed out today, as much as they could be; which meant most of the guys were out swaggering around, trying to use their boot camp cred to get laid with the local girls.

He shrugged.

"Why aren't you?" he retorted.

"You kind of seem like that type," Matteson said, smirking. She sat down lazily, slouching, and pushed up the tip of her cover. "Secretive."

"I'm not secretive," he said automatically.

She arched an eyebrow.

"Well, you're not like everyone else," she said pointedly. She shifted, and reached into her pocket. "Here," she said, handing something out to him. It had his name velcroed onto it, and it was small and compact. "You dropped this in mess hall, at breakfast."

He took it, recognizing his wallet and military I.D. He arched his brows, surprised – he hadn't even noticed it was missing.

"Damn," he muttered. "Thanks, Matteson."

She tilted her chin up.

"No problem," she said. She turned a little and looked up at the sky, taking some deep breaths as she cooled down. "Who's the little girl, in the photo?" she asked.

He glanced over at her, and went back to carving his project. He didn't say anything for a minute,

"You rob me?" he asked finally.

He had a picture of Natalie tucked behind his military I.D. It was a polaroid taken just before he left, and she was sitting by the river bank holding a flower up at the camera, smiling. He remembered the exact moment it had been taken, because Natalie had dropped the flower a second later, and started to cry.

Matteson laughed.

"The photo was falling out," she said. "The corner got bent," she added. "I tried to flatten it out. Figured she's important."

"She is," Gibbs allowed.

He wondered why Matteson was being so friendly suddenly, but he didn't ask – he didn't really mind, either. The moment she brought it up, he wanted to talk about Natalie. He missed her – he felt like he never had time to think about her. Every since he got here, they worked him hard and wore him down, until he was so exhausted he forgot to send her his prayers before he fell sleep – and then the horns woke him up and he had to stop thinking about her again, if he managed to dream about her.

"Is she your reason?" Matteson asked.

"Reason?" Gibbs grunted, pausing.

"For joining," Matteson went on. She chewed on her lip, and then shrugged. "Everybody's got a reason, y'know?"

"What's yours?" he shot back.

She looked at him a minute, and then shrugged.

"My old man's a Marine. World War two. Grandfather's a Marine, World War one. Great-Grandfather, Great-Great Grandfather," she listed, holding up her fingers. "Line of good, strong, Marines – men," she laughed. "Then they got me."

Gibbs smiled at her a little.

"So you tryin' to be a guy?" he snorted.

She shook her head.

"I'm tryin' to prove it doesn't matter," she said.

This time, he grinned.

"E-qual-ity," he drawled. "My girl's like you, back home," he said. He hoped she knew it was a compliment. He wasn't sure though, because she laughed, and kicked him, nudging his foot hard.

"I'm not after you, Gibbs," she snorted. "You don't got to bring up that you got a girl."

He shook his head seriously.

"Not my point," he assured her. He hadn't even been thinking of it that way – Matteson was just one of the guys, one of his fellow Marines; in a foxhole, she'd be no different than the next guy, and he'd always seen it that way. Wasn't his problem if the other guys didn't.

She looked at what he had in his hands, and she fell silent; she must have been waiting for him to elaborate on the picture, but he was thinking about what she'd said – was Natalie his reason? He'd always wanted to be a Marine. Natalie hadn't sparked it, and she hadn't changed it. Did that mean he didn't love Natalie enough? Should he have stayed? If his only reasons for joining the Marines had been because he liked the code, and to get away from his father – was he selfish?

"Gibbs?" Matteson said finally.

He looked up at her.

"Tell me to bug off, if you want," she said frankly. "I'll go back to beatin' your times."

"You haven't beat my times," he told her swiftly.

"Ah," she breathed. "So you've been checking."

He smiled at her confidence. He put his hand down again, and leaned back.

"She's my daughter," he told her. "The little girl."

He set aside his project and got the picture out, handing it to Matteson again.

"See? Same eyes."

Matteson stared, and then she gave him a disbelieving look, one eyebrow cocked.

"Gibbs," she said, shaking her head slightly. "C'mon – you can't be more than – how old are you?"

He blinked, and shrugged.

"Nineteen," he answered.

She gave him that typical wide-eyed, are-you-kidding me look. Then she looked back at the picture, and laughed a little.

"Well, how old's her Mama?"

"Eighteen."

"How the hell old is the kid?"

"Two."

Matteson whistled, long and low. She hadn't ever expected that – Gibbs, a father. She supposed it made sense – maybe that's why he was never a dick to her. Maybe he had that Dad complex, where he didn't want men treating his daughter like crap, and he'd realized every other girl had fathers, too.

"So," Matteson said, waving the picture lightly, "that's a bitch."

Gibbs grinned at the matter-of-fact assessment, and snorted.

"Yeah," he agreed – he wasn't going to pretend it was easy. He nodded at the picture, and took it when she handed it back, giving it a long look before he tucked it back into the wallet, snug behind his I.D. He paused. "She's worth it, though," he grunted.

"What's her name?"

"Natalie Winter."

Matteson smiled.

"That's neat," she complimented. "You makin' that for her?"

Gibbs nodded, picking it up.

"Is it a doll house?"

"Nah, bird house," he said, brushing some debris of the roof.

"Does she like birds?" Matteson asked.

Gibbs shrugged.

"She's baby, she likes everything," he said. He paused. "Last letter I got, her Mom said she tried to catch birds, in the backyard," he explained, "so I figured, she could look at 'em better, if she's got a birdhouse."

Matteson smiled at that, and nodded.

"The first present I remember my daddy gettin' me was a BB gun. I never had a chance." Matteson laughed at herself, and then gave Gibbs a narrow look. "You want a boy?" she asked.

He gave her an incredulous look.

"I didn't want a _baby_."

She burst out laughing.

"Right," she laughed, remembering. "Right, eighteen year old Mama, the kid's two – _right_ ," she kept laughing. She licked her lips and shook her head. "So, you miss her?"

"'Course," Gibbs said simply.

He missed her more, now that he was talking about her, thinking about her. He missed how she used to stand up in her crib in the morning and peek at him until he pretended he'd just noticed her – then she'd giggle, sit down, and screech for him to come let her out. He missed seeing his mother cook pancakes for her. He missed her smile, and the way she pouted just like Jenny.

"She and her mama comin' to Family Day?"

Gibbs frowned.

"Maybe," he grunted. "Money," he added, a self-explanatory remark. Matteson just nodded. She cracked her knuckles and rubbed the back of her neck.

"'M gonna marry her after infantry school," Gibbs said confidently. "Then I can make it up to her, get her to college."

"Infantry, huh? After I get all the stuff I need, I want to be an MSG."

Gibbs looked at her curiously.

"Marine Security Guard," she said. "One of them that protects the embassies. My Mom's from Lebanon, she was a local employee, when my Dad met her," Matteson explained. "Went back for a visit a few years ago," Matteson paused, and Gibbs tilted his head – he remembered this; the U.S. Embassy in Beirut had been bombed in eight-three. "Anyways," Matteson said. "Figure if I can guard an embassy, maybe some other mother can go home."

"Didn't know the Marines did that," was all he said.

He almost told her his mother was dead too, but that was too much. He didn't want to forge a connection over whom he'd lost. Instead, he told her what he wanted to do, after he got all the stuff he needed.

"'M gonna be a sniper."

Matteson considered him a minute, and then nodded.

"Yeah, I see that," she told him. She stood up, and then punched his shoulder in an affectionate way. "Wouldn't mind havin' you coverin' my back," she said succinctly.

He nodded at her, picking up his birdhouse. He took his knife in hand again, and she jogged back.

"Hey, Gibbs," she called, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Watch out for me, now," she warned. "I know you got a baby, but I got every Matteson Marine coming to Family Day, and I'm gonna be top of the class."

She ran off, starting to train again.

"Don't bet on it!" he yelled, and she raised her hand to accept the challenge.

He wouldn't let her win; some other guy might, just to feel like a hero, and to let her stick it to her old man – but Gibbs knew better. Matteson was the kind of girl who wanted to win on her merit, not because someone thought chivalry was the same thing as equality.

He grinned, and went back to the birdhouse – he was going to give it to Natalie on Family Day – he didn't have any paint, but he figured he could carve her initials into it, and then colour them in with a sharpie or a marker or something. Boot camp had taught him to improvise pretty well – and if he did as well in infantry school as he did here, then maybe he'd get a damn good assignment, something like California, or Hawaii or even Virginia or New York, and Jenny and Natalie could settle in somewhere really nice.

He hadn't decided if he was going to propose after boot camp, or after infantry school – mostly because he wanted to see how she felt, see if she hadn't started to hate him for being away. Her letters were short; she mostly sent Natalie's drawings, these days.

And – he couldn't decide if wanted to buy a ring, or use his mother's.

There was so much to figure out, and Matteson had made him realize that he wasn't necessarily any closer to that – he felt like he could breathe again, yes; he liked the barracks, he liked the Marines, and he liked being out of Stillwater, but he was still a father, and he still had a girl, and they still had to decide where their life was going to go.

He drew the length of his knife along an edge of the birdhouse and grit his teeth, imagining Natalie's smile – hoping she would smile – when he gave it to her. He wondered if she missed him, or if she'd forgotten him. He wondered what words she'd learned, and he wondered how Jen was doing.

He wished they could be here now, with him; when he let himself remember how they used to be there, every day, all day, he missed them so much it hurt – and he had to throw himself back into the Marines, into the routine and the disconnect – or he'd question everything, wash out, and let Stillwater drag him back.

* * *

He had approached Family Day with no expectations, doggedly assuming that something would prevent Jenny and Natalie from making it – so when they were there, in the crowd, the day Marines were called forward and dismissed for on-base liberty, it wasn't merely a pleasant moment that he'd planned for – it was a genuinely feel-good surprise.

When Jenny had seen him, she'd crouched down and said something to Natalie, pointing. Natalie had beamed and started towards him – Gibbs wasn't the only Marine with a child, but he did garner a few startled looks when he'd swept up Natalie and kissed her protectively. The thing was, here, the looks had been more surprised because they hadn't known he was a father, rather than because he was young.

He showed Jenny and Natalie to a burger joint, and there they settled in, Gibbs holding Natalie on his lap while she happily munched on French fries, over the moon that her mother was letting her have a soda, too.

"It's just a Sprite," Jenny said, laughing at Natalie. "People are going to think I won't let her drink."

Gibbs took the cup away from Natalie and set it aside, pointing her attention back to the food. She leaned back into him comfortably and looked up, holding up a French fry. He took it with his teeth, dramatically pretending to bite her little fingers. She shrieked at the feel of his teeth and giggled, yanking her hand back.

"No bite! No bite, Daddy!" she ordered.

"You tell him," Jenny said, nodding firmly. "You tell him, you got in trouble for biting Grandpa Jack, didn't you?"

Gibbs lowered his head.

"Good," he whispered conspiratorially.

Natalie rubbed at her ear. His voice tickled, and she laughed.

"No, Jethro," Jenny warned, rolling her eyes. "No biting."

"Why'd she bite him?" Gibbs demanded. "What'd he do?"

It was the first time he'd asked about his father, and the accusatory, angry tone in his voice was tiring – three months away, and he hadn't cooled down; not even a little.

"He didn't _do_ anything, biting is just one of her terrible two traits," Jenny placated. Jackson had told Natalie she wasn't old enough for one of the sticky caramel treats he sold at the store, and offered her a banana instead – so she'd bit him, and Jenny had allowed him to put her in a quick but pointed time out.

Gibbs made a face and lowered his mouth to Natalie's ear again.

"You're not terrible, are you?" he asked. "Not _my_ Bug," he growled gently. "You're being good, right? You're not making Mommy's life terrible?"

Natalie shook her head earnestly, and put two French fries in her mouth, chewing smugly. Jenny leaned forward; resting her elbows on her knees, and shook her head, her hair tumbling over her shoulders with the movement.

"Mommy's life isn't terrible," she agreed softly.

"Daddy," Natalie said conversationally. She started talking as if she were using sentences, but half of it was gibberish – he picked up a few words here and there – and she finished by patting his chest and offering him another fry. "Home?" she asked.

He took the food from her and ate it, giving her a nod of thanks. Then he glanced at Jenny, and arched his brows. She laughed at his expression.

"Oh yeah, she talks. I can understand her; I have to translate for Debbie a lot. Debbie lets me bring her to work, when there's no one to watch her – she's getting so vocal, and she's going to be smart. Nat, show Daddy –tell Daddy what you learned," Jenny encouraged.

Natalie looked at her a moment, and then swiveled to Gibbs.

"A's-B's-C's-D's-E's-F'S-G's," she recited matter-of-factly. She touched his nametag. "Name," she added brightly. "Mama show name."

"I taught her to write her name," Jenny said proudly. "All those pictures she sent recently, she signed her own name. She's going to be able to read early. She's smart, Jethro."

"'Course she's smart," he retorted, as if it was obvious. "You're smart."

Jenny flushed.

"She's ahead of her age group, though," she told him earnestly. "Her pediatrician told me – she has more words than usual. That's why she talks gibberish like that, because she's trying to talk like adults, to adults."

Gibbs smiled at Natalie, proud of her. He handed her the Sprite back a little smugly. Natalie snatched it.

"I saw duckies, Daddy," she said sweetly. "On bus. Then, _cows_. Mooo," she imitated the noise, and laughed at herself.

"Was it a long bus ride?" Gibbs asked.

"Long on bus," Natalie agreed, dramatically sighing. "I sleep. I wake up," she pointed at Jenny, "and Mommy sleep!"

"Did you let her sleep?"

Natalie nodded vigorously.

"I twist her hair," she told him.

Jenny arched a brow.

"That's a _no_ on letting me sleep," she amended. "She tried to braid my hair, like I braided hers the other day. All she did was pull out a handful and knot the split ends."

"But pretty, Mama," Natalie insisted.

"Yes, Bug," Jenny told her warmly. "Very pretty."

"You're pretty," Gibbs said, touching Natalie gently on the nose. "Look at this new dress."

"I made it," Jenny said quickly. She brightened. "All by myself – all the stiches, without a sewing machine," she bragged. "Is it nice?"

"You made this, Jen?" Gibbs asked, taken aback. He held the fabric in his hands – it was simple, but pretty indeed, and there were opalescent buttons down the back, making it look elegant, but when he looked closer, he noticed the dress actually just fastened with Velcro. "Damn," he muttered.

"I learn fast," she told him. "It makes it easier on me to make them instead of buying them."

Gibbs glanced at her warily.

"You need me to send more money?" he asked.

"Oh – that's not what I mean, Jethro, I'm just saving what I can – "

"I can send more, Jen, I don't need much," he promised. "And I – look, we get married, my pay goes up for dependents, and I get basic housing allowance."

She shook her head. She didn't want to talk about money, but his last words did spur her to start a different conversation.

"Jethro," she began warily. "Are you … what's happening next? I thought you were coming home."

"I am," he said with a blink. "I bought a bus ticket. 'M going home with you," he said. "I can entertain Natalie the whole way," he added, squeezing her affectionately. She giggled, squirming away.

"No tickles, Daddy," she giggled.

He stopped tickling her, and she grabbed his hands.

"Tickles!" she demanded.

"Natalie," Jenny said quickly, tapping her daughter's knee, "don't say no unless you mean it. If you play games people will think you aren't serious."

Natalie gave Jenny a look, then puckered her lips and sipped on her soda. Jenny looked back at Gibbs. She considered him intently for a moment.

"I mean, do you have other training."

"Infantry school," he said. "Starts – beginning of April," he grunted.

She looked at him tiredly, and shook her head.

"You didn't tell me that," she said quietly.

"Jen, it's part of trainin'," he retorted. "I told you, all the training, before I get a post, then – "

"But you made it sound like this was training," she interrupted, feeling a little tense, frustrated. "I don't think you meant to, or maybe you were softening the blow," she hesitated, "but Jethro, you said you'd be home after this."

"Yeah, Jen, I got ten days leave – but Infantry School is part of training –"

"Okay, I understand that now," she said sharply. "The point is, that wasn't clear when you _left_."

He drew back a little, feeling sheepish. Maybe he hadn't been clear; but telling her he'd be back in three months had been easier than explaining that, save for a few days, it would really be more like five. A part of him had known she'd hate that, so he'd tried to make it sound … easier. He should have guessed it might come back to bite him.

"I get you for ten days, and then you're back to – all this, for how long?" she asked.

"'Bout two months," he answered honestly. "Then I get my assignment. I might deploy, might get assigned to a base. When I make Lance Corporal, I can apply for sniper school – "

"Slow down," she told him. "You're thinking too far ahead."

He gave her a curt look.

"You're always wantin' me to plan the future," he retorted edgily.

"I need to think about now," she said; it did feel like a role reversal. She paused, and shook her head, her shoulders slouching. "It's not money, Jethro, it's just … I miss you," she confessed. "There's no one else to relate to."

"It's not that much longer, Jen," he said earnestly, leaning forward. "Two months, flies by."

"Maybe for you," she said. "Maybe _here_. Not in Stillwater. It slugs by. Like I'm sitting around doing nothing, wasting my life – wasting Natalie's life."

The look of surprise, of minor hurt, on his face, made her cringe, and she wished she could take it back. She pushed her hair back heavily and tried to find a different way to phrase her words.

"I'm stagnant, Jethro. I'm not doing anything. You're – you're doing something. You're doing it without us."

"No," he said sharply, lifting his finger and pointing at her. "This is _for_ you," he corrected. He gestured around, at the little Parris Island military city. "I got you and Natalie on my mind, Jen," he swore. "This is about getting you out."

"It's not just about that, though – and it _shouldn't_ be," she said firmly. "This is what you wanted, and I don't want to stand in the way of that. But it's hard for me. I never wanted to stay in Stillwater any more than you, but I'm the one stuck."

"Not that much longer," he said again. His eyes seemed to plead with her. "I don't understand what you want, Jen," he said, lowering his voice, almost desperate.

She didn't, either. Logically speaking, he was making a sound decision; doing what he wanted, and being able to drag her along – the military would get them out of Stillwater. But she was afraid she'd get lost in that, too, like she was afraid she'd get stuck in small town America.

He, for one, didn't know what he was supposed to do; he didn't have the money to whisk her away and hang around and watch Natalie while she caught up to everything she'd had to put on hold. He would do that, if he could. But she frustrated him sometimes, because she seemed to be waiting for something that just wasn't going to happen.

Natalie offered him a sip of her Sprite, and he shook his head, gently pushing the straw away from his mouth.

"It's awkward with your father," she sighed. "It's … it's not that bad, not like it used to be, but it's so stale and – well, you know Stillwater," she mumbled. "I hate it. I don't want Natalie to grow up there."

"She won't," Gibbs promised tightly. "I'd marry you right now, Jen, but it won't matter until after infantry school," he said warily.

"I don't know if marrying me will change much at all anyway," she said, exasperated. "It's all dandy if you get stationed in Florida or New York or something, but what if you get deployed - ? Then I'm in Stillwater, and maybe you're dead, and then what? I get a pension and a fatherless baby? I don't want to lose you."

"Where're they gonna send me?" He scoffed. "We're not at war."

She gave him an incredulous look.

"The Persian _Gulf_ ," she pointed out. " _Bosnia_ – Northern Africa," she listed.

He blinked.

"What's going on there?"

" _Jethro_!"

She pushed her hair back again. He blinked at her, obviously a little sheepish that he wasn't sure what she was talking about in regards to – well, world issues.

"Did you even think about dying when you joined up?" she demanded.

He gave her a narrow look. Why would he – that's not how anyone thought, not when they joined. They joined to serve, to belong, to find a code – they all had reasons, but no one joined hoping to bite it in some rich man's fight in a desert or a jungle. That was the _job_ , not the philosophy.

Gibbs felt at a loss for what to say, so he pulled Natalie a little bit closer – it was a subconscious movement, as if he felt her slipping away. She reached for the last few French fries she had, and tilted her head against him, content.

"What're you saying, Jen?" he asked finally.

She licked her lips.

"Look, I just," she broke off, her eyes glittering. "I miss you being with me," she said in a small voice. "I want to be doing something."

He looked at her for a long time.

"We've got ten days, Jen, at least we got that," he said heavily. "We can figure it out."

"In ten days?" she asked, laughing a little hoarsely. Her eyes brimmed with disbelief. "Jethro, I don't know if we can get back on track in – in ten years."

He tilted his head.

"I was plannin' on it," he said hesitantly.

She understood why he thought marriage was a good idea; she herself saw the merit in the path he was trying to take. She just didn't know if she could do it.

Natalie lunged forward and accidentally dumped the remnants of her soda all over father.

"Puppy!" she screamed, at a very, intimidating German hepherd that was clearly not a puppy.

Gibbs didn't even flinch at the cold mess.

"It's a drug dog, Bug, you can't pet 'im," he apologized.

"Natalie, you don't have to act so spastic every time you see a dog," Jenny said, rolling her eyes. She leaned forward. "Look, now Daddy will be all sticky," she murmured, picking up the empty cup. She frowned. "At least it's not your dress blues," she said. She looked up, and met his eyes. "I wanted specifically to see you in those," she said softly.

He smiled at her, and leaned in to kiss her lips.

"Ceremony," he grunted, "tomorrow."

He nudged her cheek with his nose, and grinned, his grip on Natalie secure but loose.

"I can wear 'em at my wedding, too," he said smugly, "and I can cut the cake with my saber."

She smiled, and laid her head lightly on his shoulder for a moment, imagining that scenario – and with Natalie resplendent in flower girl regalia, she told herself – half-honestly—that it really wouldn't be a mistake. The other half of her kept wandering back to what her mother had said.

* * *

Between boot camp and infantry school, Gibbs was half convinced he'd voluntarily signed up for a tour of Hell and half sure he was in exactly the right place; there was a fine line between his love of the philosophy and brotherhood of the Marines and the annoyances of getting his ass kicked by PT every waking second of his life.

He lay on his bunk in the barracks, taking a breather before lights out. He had two envelopes resting on his abdomen, one he hadn't looked at yet, and one he couldn't stop looking at. The front of this one had some marks on it; it seemed to have gotten lost, and maybe that's why it had been so long since he heard from Jenny. It was her handwriting on the address and return, someone else's making notes of mistakes.

He tore open the envelope, and pulled out its contents: two things from Natalie. One was a colouring book page, decorated as neatly as possible, with her name written on it on the bottom. The other was a free hand drawing, nothing but a bunch of swirls and lines, really, which maybe resembled a flower; that one had her name on it, too.

He smiled; her handwriting was getting better. He thought she must be the only eighteen-month-old who could write her name. That ought to show some people what was what – Natalie Gibbs, child of teen parents, smarter than other babies. He kept staring at the drawings smugly, wallowing in his admiration of them to cover the fact that this was the second time there hadn't been a note from Jen.

The last time, she'd sent him a short paragraph detailing Natalie's new accomplishments, and then right after that, a small, neatly written request that he call her – she _needed_ to hear his voice. She underlined needed – and what had he done? He'd gotten lost in drills and exercises and exhaustion and brotherhood – and here he lay, another night past phone hours, having forgotten to call.

He wondered if that was why she wasn't writing; she was angry with him. But – he didn't fault her too much; he didn't like writing, he wasn't good at it, and he never wrote her. He couldn't expect her to spend her days writing him novels. She was busy taking care of Natalie by herself, essentially.

He folded the drawings and tucked them into the pocket of his fatigue, mentally reminding himself to put them in a regulation storage space later. He kept all of Natalie's drawings and 'notes' in the same place, and he was going to hang them up wherever his work station was when he got his permanent duty orders.

That was the other thing he was concerned about – the other envelope; it had his permanent station orders in it, along with an answer on his leave request. Marines rarely got leave after Infantry school, almost never if they were stationed near the Infantry School they were at, and he needed to go home; he had to make good, marry Jen, and make it official. Then she'd be able to follow him to his post with all the benefits the corps offered.

The last time they'd spoken on the phone – weeks ago – he'd promised her he'd do it; he'd find a way to make it work as soon as possible. He'd only asked for a few days – hell, he fibbed, and told his commanding officer that the wedding plans were already set, and he couldn't waste time on getting his dependents health care.

He fingered the flap of the envelope, unsure if he wanted to read; he couldn't decide if he was more wary regarding the answer on leave, or his duty assignment. That would be interesting to find out – he could end up _anywhere_.

He wasted no more time; he tore open the orders and flipped them open, his eyes critically scanning the page for the important parts. Almost immediately, he spotted his first permanent duty station – Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. He was staying here; Camp Geiger School of Infantry was a satellite base of Lejeune. That didn't bode well for leave – usually, Marines being stationed immediately near their SOI weren't granted even a travel day's break. Just as his heart started to sink, however, he realized that the letter did make note of a grant of leave – he could have two days; he'd report to Camp Lejeune for active duty on the fourth of June.

Lejeune wasn't half bad; it had schools, beaches, nice real estate around the area. Once he was married, he could get Jen and Natalie onto base housing in no time, he was sure of it. And then – if he got to sniper school soon, he could move them to California or Virginia, where the Scout schools were – though he'd probably need to get a deployment under his belt first –

"Gibbs?"

He heard Matteson shouting from just outside the door – it was against regs for her to be in the male bunks, even during down time. He got up and hopped off the top bunk, strolling out to meet her. He leaned against the door frame, and she held her orders up.

"Language training," she said smugly. "The Presidio."

Gibbs arched an eyebrow.

"Which language?"

"Arabic," she answered, preening – it had been what she wanted; she'd definitely qualified enough for it on her ASVAB. "Jeffreys told me you were in here – you not happy with your assignment?"

He shrugged, then shook his head.

"Fine," he said. "I was readin' a letter from Natalie." He took it out of his pocket and showed her, with a small smug smile of his own.

"Sweet," Matteson said politely. "So, where are you going?"

"Here," Gibbs said simply. "Lejeune."

"Amphibious assault?"

"Military police," Gibbs said, cracking a grin.

Matteson started laughing.

"It figures – yeah, that's about right," she snorted. "I can see you bein' a cop."

"S'what I was gonna do at home," he ventured. "Jen didn't like that idea."

"Too dangerous?"

"Too much stayin' in Stillwater," he grunted. His brow furrowed with slight annoyance. "Didn't like this idea, either," he muttered tensely.

Matteson tilted her head thoughtfully.

"It's hard on family," she remarked cautiously. "Those that aren't, you know, adjusted to military life."

Gibbs didn't bother telling her that Jenny was an army brat; she'd done her fair share of moving and waiting. Thinking about that, maybe he figured that's why she was so wary of what he was doing – but it still bothered him sometimes. He still – couldn't figure out what she wanted. He felt guilty because he was doing what he'd always said he was going to do – be a Marine – and Natalie hadn't affected that, but Natalie had changed every single one of Jen's plans, right down to her ending up with a GED instead of a diploma.

He just shrugged.

"You haven't heard from her in a while?" Matteson ventured.

Gibbs held up the drawings.

"Yeah, you know what I mean," she said bluntly.

Gibbs shrugged again – he was supposed to call her, and now he had to get around to it, to tell her what the plan was.

"Don't sweat it too much, Gibbs," Matteson said carefully. "You guys are … young. It's pretty normal for stuff like this to not work out."

"It's not like that, Joan," he said, a little harshly. "We got a kid. It's not some dumb infatuation."

She held up her hands pointedly, but didn't break eye contact.

"I'm just saying," she said quietly. "It's _hard_. And, you know, I believe you when you say you want to send her to college but … if you guys get married, for now at least, that's a lot of waiting around for her. You won't get the GI bill until you're out. Maybe she wants more freedom than – "

"I haven't known what Jen's wanted for three years," Gibbs complained hollowly, interrupting. He appreciated Matteson's female advice, but he resented it, too, because it was too eye-opening. He grit his teeth. "She doesn't want to stay in Stillwater, she doesn't want me to join the Marines, doesn't want me to be a cop – how the hell does she want me to get her out?"

"Maybe she wants to do it herself," Matteson ventured quietly.

Gibbs lifted his shoulders.

"I don't got a problem with her doin' whatever she wants," he growled seriously. "I'm not that kinda guy."

Matteson smiled at him warmly.

"I know," she said simply. She chewed on her lip. "It's a hard time to be a girl, Gibbs," she said finally. "We're like … " she trailed off, frowning thoughtfully. "Like part of the first generation that was raised knowin' we didn't have to depend on the men, maybe. You think your girl might be scared that she ends up being a stereotype?"

Gibbs looked perplexed.

"She's _not_."

"Look, I don't know your relationship; I don't know how it was or is or – whatever. But she seemed fierce when I met her. Maybe you need to start tryin' to figure out why you two see things differently, even if you love each other."

Gibbs didn't answer that. Matteson had briefly met Natalie and Jenny at graduation, and that had been after he and Jen had the tense conversation about infantry school. Jenny hadn't been in the best mood – but it just frustrated Gibbs. He knew that once they got on their own, their relationship could go back to how it used to be – them, in their own little world, except now with Natalie, too. He saw no other way – and he couldn't fathom why she wouldn't see eye-to-eye with him.

"I got a couple days leave," he told Matteson hoarsely. He shrugged. "'M goin' back, to marry her."

Matteson smiled.

"You gonna let Natalie be a flower girl?"

Gibbs smiled, and nodded. Matteson winked.

"She'll love it," she encouraged, done chastising him, or offering her unsolicited advice.

One of Gibbs' bunkmates slipped past her, shot them a look, and scowled.

"Get a room," he grunted, shouldering past Gibbs – one of the guys who'd been more aggressively opposed to a female Marine, probably because she'd shot him down romantically.

"Sure, we'll leave you alone with your hand, Mendez," Matteson snapped back coolly.

Gibbs grinned at her, and she gave him a small salute, hopping backwards away from his barracks.

"Don't get distracted, Gibbs," she called. "I'm this close to beatin' your times."

"Fat chance," he retorted, watching her jog off back to her bunk assignment.

He turned and wandered back to his bunk, climbing up and looking down at his things – orders, Natalie's drawings, and envelopes. He had to remember to call Jen tomorrow – and the next day, and the next; he stared at the envelope Natalie's things had come in, and felt something heavy in his gut.

* * *

Jackson Gibbs rarely conversed with the Chief anymore – despite the granddaughter they shared – and so having the man in his kitchen was an interesting turn of events. They'd had a falling out immediately after Ann Gibbs' death – due to Jasper's decision to allow Gibbs to crash at his house rather than send him home.

Without Ann, the two men had no camaraderie, though both knew it put stress on Jenny to keep up Natalie's relationship with them both, particularly when Jethro disliked his father so much. Both older men were military, both had been disappointed in their children, and yet they were not much alike – and perhaps for absurdly similar reasons: Jasper didn't think Jackson was treating his son right, and Jackson thought Jasper was too hard on Jenny.

This meeting, however unexpected and brief, was poignant.

"I haven't heard from 'im," Jackson reiterated shortly. "All I know is anything Jennifer says – Infantry school was two months, started in April."

The Chief grit his teeth, standing up – he hadn't even been sitting for long enough to constitute a _visit_. Jackson leaned forward, his jaw set.

"I wasn't a part of this, Jasper," he assured him. "I didn't give her money, I didn't give her a blessing – "

"Did she say _anything_ to you?"

"I kept Natalie in the store while she worked Thursday," Jackson said again, his words tight. "She picked her up, I asked her to stay for dinner – Jennifer refused."

"You should have called me, Jack – "

"I had no damn reason to think that girl was lying," snapped Jackson. "She said she was taking Natalie with her up to see that Flynn girl in New Jersey, and your Jenny's never been a liar."

"A toddler, staying in a goddamn college dorm?"

"So she wanted to have some fun," Jackson retorted. "She wouldn't do a damn thing to put that baby in danger," he asserted.

"She's still young enough to be blind to the nuances of some decisions," growled Jasper. "I told her if I was gonna trust her while I was in New York for the conference, she damn well better keep her ass in that house."

"She's got a right to take a damn break – "

"She knew you wouldn't question her," barked Jasper. "She took advantage of you."

"You think she's gone anywhere but down to North Carolina?" Jackson Gibbs snorted. "The Marines ain't gonna give him leave, she knows when his graduation date is –"

"You tell me how you'd react if your kid was up and gone," Jasper snapped. "I don't think shit, I know she's eighteen years old, out there god knows where with a baby –"

"Call the damn Flynn girl in Jersey – "

"Alison doesn't know what I'm talking about," Jenny's father said curtly. "She hadn't spoken to Jenny about a visit – and now she's scared."

Jackson rubbed his forehead, his jaw tight. The Chief had come back from a trip to New York, demanding to know where the hell Jenny was, and Jackson realized quickly she must have lied through her teeth about the trip to New Jersey.

"She's got to be with her mother," Jackson said.

Jasper tucked his cap under his arm, his brow darkening.

"That's what I'm afraid of," he muttered harshly, turning on his heel and leaving without another word.

He stormed tensely up the streets of Stillwater to his home, his muscles tight and painful with rage and worry – the one time he'd trusted Jennifer, left her completely alone and in charge, and she ran off like this – her room was clean, Natalie's closet was empty – he couldn't fathom what was going on in that girl's head, but when he'd seen the bed made, and noticed that the line of string and clothespins that decorated her room with milestones of Natalie's life was gone, he'd almost immediately had a hunch about what had happened. It couldn't be a coincidence that Jenny had seemed restless, that she'd had more interest in her mother.

The phone in the Shepard house was ringing off the hook when he got in, and he grabbed it from its cradle, his heart pounding; grown man and army veteran that he was, the thought that it might be Gibbs calling made him feel cowardly enough to slam it right back down.

"Shepard," he snapped.

There was silence on the line, and then he heard his ex-wife's voice.

"Jasper. She's fine. She's here."

It wasn't a question; it was a calm greeting.

"I've been calling you for an hour," Melanie said – and it was because she sounded serious, and put together, and more mature than usual, that he knew.

"Put her on the goddamn phone, Mellie."

"You sound angry."

"If you're really telling me that in two days, my daughter ended up on the opposite side of the fucking country, you're damn right I'm angry."

"She's tired, she's not in a good place, Jasper, I just wanted to touch base with you –"

"Now, Melanie."

"I'll talk to him, Mom."

He heard his daughter's muffled tones in the background.

"It's fine, just – here, there are vanilla wafers in my bag; Natalie's hungry."

Her voice got louder as she took the phone, and then she was quiet for a moment. She cleared her throat.

"Daddy," she started.

He cut her off immediately.

"Are you coming back?" he asked bluntly – coldly.

She was silent long enough for him to know the answer.

"So help me God, Jennifer."

" _Dad_ ," she started desperately, trying to keep her voice steady. "I was _suffocating_."

"You had a decent job," he fired back. "You had someone to be there for, Jennifer Morgan. I didn't raise you to _run_."

"I am not running – I did _not_ abandon Natalie," she said fiercely, misinterpreting him.

"You are running," he said succinctly. "I was referring to Leroy."

She swallowed hard.

"Jethro is an adult," she whispered. "Jethro – he couldn't even make time to call me, Dad," she lashed out. "The longer he was gone the more uncertain it felt, the more lost I felt – I just wanted him to call, and he couldn't even do _that_."

"The boy isn't off at a Casino, Jennifer, he's in the goddamn Marines!" barked Jasper. "You told me you agreed to this, you supported him!"

"I told him I wouldn't hold him back from what he really wanted, and _needed_ , to do," she corrected. "I tried, and I – I like to think he would say the same for me."

Jasper put his hand to his jaw and rubbed, hard.

"Leroy didn't leave you," he growled, frustrated. "He made a damn good decision, even if he had selfish motives. You wanted him, you wanted to leave Stillwater – "

"I don't know what I want," Jenny interrupted desperately. "He has gone at lightning speed – Marines, and – marriage, Dad, he expected me to marry him, on the spot. We've been together since – freshman year, we've never had lives, we've – he's not like his father, but that doesn't mean his world view isn't _somehow_ affected by how his father raised a family."

"Jennifer," the Chief said calmly, "you would never _be_ Ann Gibbs," he told her. "I may have had my problems with Leroy, but he stepped up. He has the makings of a good man."

"But I've seen what happens if both people in a marriage aren't happy. It isn't fair to the kid, it isn't fair to anyone – "

"You've been talking to your mother."

Jenny sighed heavily.

Jasper didn't know what was in her head; he didn't know what to say to her.

"You just picked up and left, Jennifer. You just quit."

"I had to," she said shakily. "I had to, or I'd lose my nerve. I almost lost it when Natalie kissed Jackson goodbye. She asked me if we were going to see Daddy, and I – this wasn't easy; it wasn't a whim," she explained, her voice cracking. "Jethro and I are … so disconnected, we have been," she admitted, dejected, "for a while. It's not his fault. It just … happened. We're just too young."

She started crying, and Jasper leaned heavily against the counter, bracing his palm on the granite. He clenched his teeth.

"What are you going to do out there, Jennifer?" He asked coolly.

"Mom is going to help me."

Jasper nodded to himself stiffly – of course she was; Melanie had always been less inclined to have a firm hand with Jennifer, even after the teen pregnancy. He imagined the kind of leniency Jenny would enjoy in California, and he was angry all over again.

"And what about Leroy?" he asked frostily.

She made a soft, pitiful noise.

"I – I don't know, Dad," she said huskily. "I don't have everything figured out."

"You've got that right," Jasper snapped. "You took his child, Jennifer. You took his child away. He has no legal custody rights."

"Whose fault is that?" she burst out. " _You're_ the one who made sure I was granted sole custody, that she's _mine_. I have to get back some feeling of control over my own life, I have to learn how to do this – and I was not going to leave my baby –"

"Do you have any idea how lucky you are?" snarled Jasper. "There are plenty of girls who never hear from the fathers of their babies again. There are men who just bail. He didn't do that to you, Jenny. And now," Jasper paused, "now I wonder if I didn't give him enough respect, if this is how you're going to treat him."

She was silent, and he knew she was distressed – that she hadn't thought this through, and her head was in the wrong place – and again, he didn't know how to deal with that. To him, it was another manifestation of how young she was, and he wanted to shake her, to _smack_ that out of her, to try and force her to stop thinking like a teenager, still, and start realizing that she had to find a way to be happy while still making sacrifices.

Jasper cleared his throat.

"Are you going to let him see her?"

"Dad," Jenny said painfully. "I'm still figuring things out – I love Jethro, I swear I do, and he's – you're right; he's never given me … it's complicated, Daddy, it's complicated. I'd – of course he can see her! I think part of him thinks it's a relief to be in the Marines, he's not ready to be a full time parent. "

"And you think you are?" snapped Jasper. "You stole that baby away from the town and the family she's grown up around, because you're unhappy—"

"I can't raise a happy baby if I'm unhappy!" Jenny snapped, speaking over him. "Jethro _is_ responsible, he's one-hundred percent duty and honor, but he's going to be away all the time and I just don't want that, I _don't_!" She took a deep breath. "It's like since we graduated, and we're not kids under house arrest anymore, and we're supposed to take all the reins, it's sinking in more than it did when we were sixteen with a baby – and that doesn't make sense but – "

"All I'm hearing is rationalizations for an action _you_ took that was foolish and poorly thought out," Jasper interrupted harshly. He tried to remain level headed, but his attempts were failing – and he was struck by an overwhelming feeling of sadness that he'd never see his granddaughter again. "He's going to come home to nothing, and I have nothing of substance to tell him."

"I have a letter for him," Jenny said quietly. "I am putting it in the mail tomorrow. You can give him –"

"Absolutely not," Jasper barked. "I will not do your dirty work. If this is what you want, you will at the very least call him – a _Dear John_ , Jennifer? That's the best you can do?"

She was a good writer, and she knew she could express herself well in that fashion. She had never expected her father to come down so firmly against her; anger and frustration with her actions she had anticipated, but never this, never him speaking as _Gibbs'_ advocate.

"Daddy," she began, taking another deep, steadying breath. "You're never going to understand what I'm going through. You'll never experience it. I can barely get my head around my own state of mind, but I already – I already feel less trapped here, less – less like a small town tragedy that ended before it started."

Her father grunted derisively.

" _Poetic_ ," he snapped.

"Jethro needs to understand that this isn't … about me not liking him, or breaking up with him, it's just … me trying to do what I need to do, and what gives Natalie better opportunities. What happens next will …" she trailed off, and laughed. "Dad, I know him. He'll balk. He'll run, too. He won't sue for custody, or try to make it work, because he's out of the Stillwater bubble, and he's realized how hard this is, and how we're not ourselves anymore – even if we do love Natalie. I can't explain it to you because you don't know him like I do."

Jasper was quiet for a long time. He had no doubt that Jennifer knew Leroy Jethro Gibbs better than anyone, but he thought she was wrong; he hoped so. And he hoped this – whatever it was, this fervor to be alone, to spit in the face of what Gibbs was trying to give her and deliberately choose young single motherhood, would die out after a few days with Melanie.

"This is a mistake, Jennifer," he said finally, his voice heavy and resigned. "This is not right." He paused, and cleared his throat authoritatively. "You have the right to make your own decisions. I want you to think long and hard about this. Think about the damage you could do to your relationship. Think about the damage you could do to Natalie if she isn't able to see her father. I will give you a month and no longer to come to your senses." He swallowed hard. "After that, I will not allow you back into my house."

She started to say something, but he cut her off again.

"I was beginning to think you were going to make me proud despite getting pregnant at fifteen. I hope I wasn't wrong."

"You don't get to define what's right for me, and my life," she said weakly, her voice cracking. "Daddy," she began, pleading.

"There are bridges you should never burn," he told her bluntly, with finality. "You're jeopardizing more than one relationship here, Jenny," he said. "And so help me God, if Leroy does end up suing for custodial rights, I may just hire his damn lawyer."

He hung up the phone – he immediately felt guilty for hanging up on his flesh and blood, for neglecting even to speak with his ex-wife again – but his anger, and his sadness, was so great that he had couldn't listen to her anymore. He couldn't begin to believe that she'd done this, that she'd had the nerve – the gall – after he'd fed her and clothed her when he could have kicked her out, forced her to give that baby up – when he'd tried so hard lately to forgive her and look forward instead of judging her for one big mistake.

He felt blindsided; he'd thought he could see these kids making it, overcoming the typical broken-family statistic of people in their situation – but he must have missed something. Maybe his daughter was right; maybe Ann Gibbs had been the only thing holding the fragile framework together.

Jasper Shepard leaned heavily against the counter, bending at the waist and touching his head to the cold granite; he clenched his hands into fists, and tried to figure out if this was his fault, if there was some legal way he could drag her ass back here – but he was at a loss; there was nothing he could do to knock sense into her.

He tried to envision what it would be like for Leroy, when that boy came home and there was nothing left but the father he hated, and the proud old Chief of Police – when was the last time Gibbs had been able to see Natalie, hug her? And on that note – with dread, Jasper tried to remember the last time he'd seen his daughter and Gibbs hug, or kiss – do anything _affectionate_.

What had happened? Why had it seemed so harmonious – why were Jenny's actions starting to make sense almost immediately after he condemned her for them?

He clenched his fist tighter, and stood up straight, steeling himself to go curtly inform Jackson of the situation – and he sure as hell hoped Jennifer had the fortitude to tell Gibbs what she'd done, because the only thing in the world that would make it worse for Leroy would be if he heard it from Jackson.

* * *

He got off the bus with a mere thirty-eight hours to spare before he had to report; he had his mother's ring in one pocket and his orders in the other – and the first place he went was Deborah Henry's dress shop, where he assumed she'd be in the middle of a sweltering summer day. He hadn't had time to tell her he was coming home; he hadn't called her father, or his – in a way, he was bent on surprising her, with fanciful visions of a clichéd man-in-uniform reunion – her leaping up to wrap her arms around him – tumbling around in the back of his mind.

When he looked back on it, he didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse that this unassuming woman, whom he'd never known very well other than as a Church lady and one of the Stillwater matrons, was the one who told him – he went looking for Jenny in Debbie's Dresses, and all he found was Debbie, and yards and yards of colorful cloth.

The older woman was sitting at her desk with a young girl when he came in – the girl was looking over the finished touches of a dress – and Deborah looked up when her bell rang; she stood quicker than he expected, and said something quickly to her customer. The redhead turned, looked at him with blue eyes, and then turned back around sharply, and minded her own business.

"Is Jen here?" he asked, without preliminaries – his mother would roll in her grave to hear him be so rude, but he didn't have time.

Deborah put her hand on his shoulder and pushed him aside, an unexpected move; he gave her hand a wary look, and the woman put her body between Gibbs and the customer, lowering her voice.

"She's not," Mrs. Henry said carefully. "I don't know where she is, either," she said promptly, rubbing his shoulder a little.

Gibbs blinked, and then arched an eyebrow.

"She's not workin'?" he tried to clarify.

"Of course not, Leroy, she's – " Deborah Henry paused suddenly. "Haven't you been to your father's place?"

He blinked again, and shook his head.

"Chief Shepard, you haven't spoken to him?"

Again, Gibbs shook his head.

"I want to see her first," he insisted. "Figured this was my best bet."

"Oh," sighed Deborah, biting her lower lip hard. She looked nervous; her eyes darted. "My stars – Leroy, didn't she send you a letter, even?"

Gibbs stared at the woman, uncomprehending. He hadn't had a letter from Jenny in weeks – not since that one that had merely had drawings from Natalie in it. He didn't move a muscle, looking at the shop owner, knowing inherently that something was wrong – knowing, in the back of his mind, exactly what had happened, and yet stubbornly unable to confront it yet.

"You need to speak with Jasper Shepard," Mrs. Henry said warily. She hesitated, and then she pulled her hand back, and folded her hands. "None of us know anything, dear boy," she told him quietly. "Chief hasn't said a word."

 _None of them knew anything about what?_ Gibbs still stared at her – and he didn't believe her, because in Stillwater, everyone knew everything. It was an eerie kind of small town place, where somehow everyone knew Jenny Shepard got pregnant in old man Crenshaw's barn, and everyone knew that Gibbs and his father had a fight in a hospital hallway, even though that hospital had been an hour a way from Stillwater.

"Go on now, Leroy," Deborah said. "Go on – she isn't here."

Gibbs took a step back. He looked around the place; he waited a moment for her to come out of the back with a thimble between her teeth, something absurd like that – with a bolt of cloth draped over her shoulders, whistling for Natalie while her mouth was full.

Then he took another step back, and turned stiffly, his hand going to his pocket. He wrenched the door open, and he heard a voice burst out –

" _Why_ did you _do_ that? You _liked_ telling him that – Mrs. Henry – you could have just told him to go to Chief Shepard – "

Gibbs didn't know the girl who stood up for him; he let the bell jingle as the door slammed behind him, and he flinched in the brightness of the sun, standing on the shop-lined little street, torn. Did he march himself up to Jasper Shepard's door to unravel this farce – did he demand information from his own father, much as he hated the idea of asking him for help? It took a moment of standing there, sweating, confused, for him to turn on his heel and start towards the General Store, because the longer he put off hearing it from Jenny's father, the longer it wasn't – it _couldn't_ – be what he thought.

He was halfway there, when he almost bowled over a group of people – blind as he was in his march – and of course, of course, of course – it was the last person he wanted to see, and his band of thick cronies.

"Watch where you're going, Jarhead," growled Chuck coolly, flinging out his hand to shove Gibbs in the chest. "You stepped on my girl's foot."

He wasn't surprised to see Betsy Carmichael on Chuck's arm, but he was a little surprised to see the apologetic, slightly guilty look on her face. She grasped Chuck's sleeve.

"He didn't, Chuck, let it go."

"Hometown hero stridin' through here like he owns the place," Chuck growled, ignoring her. He turned up his nose and sneered. "Hey, Gibbs, how come we all got to kiss your ass for protectin' our freedom and all that crap when you was too dumb to pull it out?"

Gibbs looked at him, incredulous; it was unreal that Chuck was going to goad him in the streets, attack him right now – unprovoked, even. He'd never liked this guy, they'd always rubbed each other wrong – but Gibbs hadn't done a damn thing to deserve this, and he wasn't in a mood to put up with it. His fist clenched.

"Chuck, leave him alone," Betsy snapped, her voice going up an octave.

One of the guys with Chuck saw Gibbs' fist tighten, and snorted.

"Looky there, Chuck," he drawled. "Got 'im all worked up," he mocked. "Whose honor you got to defend, Gibbs?" the guy snorted.

"Three on one," the other guy said, elbowing Chuck, and cracking his own knuckles. He grinned. "You gonna knock all our teeth out for pointin' out that you couldn't even keep a slip of easy white trash like Jenny Shepard?"

They thought he was so soft, such a wuss, because he'd never run with them in high school; because he hadn't played football, and puffed himself up like some all-American God – because he hadn't wanted to push around the younger kids, or pick on the weaker guys, or scam bright-eyed, sweet-hearted freshmen.

They thought he wouldn't be a match, because they had the numbers – but in the split second that Chuck laughed at the slight to Jenny, Gibbs gave him a right-hook so practiced and American military certified that the bastard was laid out on his ass before his bullheaded friends knew what had hit him.

Betsy leaped back in a panic, and shrieked at a completely unnecessary decibel. Chuck swore, and one of his buddies got a stiff punch in to Gibbs' jaw – the brawl set off magnificently, and Gibbs, juiced on the kind of mad adrenaline that came with being provoked when he was reeling from the news that – at least, as far as knew – Jenny had bailed on him, was not an easy match.

He felt teeth crack against his knuckles, and then he doubled over, his fist finding someone's ribs while he tried to catch his breath from a blow to the back. Betsy kept screaming uselessly – he had the swift, strange thought that if it had been Jenny, she'd already have jumped in and started biting – and his world was a whirlwind of sharp hits and blunt force for a moment, before two things happened –

A shot rang out, the loud, startling sound of a gun blast breaking into the melee, and someone was standing in the middle of them, her back to Gibbs, with her arms stretched out, shouting.

"What do you think you're doing? Who do you think you are, attacking people on the streets?"

"He threw the first punch, Shannon!" Betsy shrieked shrilly, pointing at Gibbs.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Betsy Carmichael!" the intrepid defender snapped anyway. She started to turn, but Gibbs only got half a look at her blue eyes – it was the girl from the dress shop – before Jackson Gibbs himself was there, shotgun in hand.

"That's about _enough_ , you bunch of goddamn punks – you'd think you were all raised by a pack of rabid hounds, and _damned_ if I don't know all your Mamas – especially yours," Jackson growled, gripping Gibbs' shoulder in a vice-like clutch. "Fighting in the street like a common thug," he barked, pushing Gibbs back.

Gibbs grit his teeth hard and glared at his father – as if he needed this man barging in with his shotgun, all heated, defending him like this. He was Marine, and a damn good one at that – and Jackson Gibbs could stay out of this.

"Mr. Gibbs, I think they asked for it," the redhead piped up. She folded her arms defiantly, and Gibbs blinked – her long hair blew behind her – he didn't even know this little thing, and she'd jumped right in the middle of it all.

"Run on home, Shannon, you don't have business here," Jackson said, softening his tone. He gestured with his gun. "Go on, now," he said, sounding eerily like Mrs. Henry had moments ago.

The girl threw a nasty look at Chuck and his cohorts, and she turned tail and ran off, back into the Henry dress shop. With one angry look at Gibbs, and one wary look at the shotgun, Chuck beckoned his friends and took off – Betsy did at least do Gibbs the courtesy of giving him a sympathetic shake of the head before she ran after him.

Jackson rested the shotgun over his shoulder and gave his son a cool, calculating look.

"You ain't even home a day and you're getting' into trouble – "

"Where is she, Dad?" Gibbs interrupted bluntly, icy blue eyes boring into his father's. His voice was tight, his muscles tighter, and he wiped at his bloody mouth without wincing – without feeling that physical pain. His stomach was in knots, twisted like it had been when he heard the bad news about his mother's diagnosis, and he stared, shoulders back, waiting to hear it.

Jackson put his hand on Gibbs' shoulder.

"Come home," he said gruffly.

Gibbs yanked away.

"Jackson," he spat warily. "Where's Jen?"

"You come with me, boy," Jackson said coolly, ignoring the slight. He put his hand back on his son's shoulder – tighter this time – and gave him a tug.

Gibbs had almost no choice – he followed him, waiting only a moment more to wrench his arm from Jackson's grip again. He wiped at his face with his sleeve, glad he was in his ACUs and not his dress blues, and then closed one eye lightly for a moment, ignoring the throb in it, and his jaw.

His father marched him not into the house, but into the store; he yanked a chair out for him and pointed wordlessly, before going behind the counter. Gibbs sat, pressing his fingers against his jaw, listening to his father rummaging around, and then Jackson was back, handing out a slightly bent envelope.

"Came for you about a week ago," Jackson grunted. "Don't know why she didn't send it straight to you."

Gibbs took it, staring at the address – his name, her initials up in the corner, but no actual return address. He stared for a long moment, and thought – maybe he just wouldn't open it. But he did, because the temptation was too strong, and he was at a loss; he needed answers. Despite the mystery of Deborah Henry's words, he thought – she must be just at her father's; she must be.

 _Dear Jethro_ – it began – _I don't know how to explain this to you, and I don't know what to say – Natalie is safe, and this doesn't have anything to do with something you did wrong …_

The words she'd written faded together; melted and evolved into a jumble that barely justified anything, barely made sense; there was so much crammed into two pages of college ruled paper; tiny, elegant cursive writing reasoning out harsh, cold things – things like how suffocated she was in Stillwater, how much the idea of marriage scared her, how it was about her, and what she needed, and he hadn't done her wrong, but she had to go just like he had to –

Eventually, he quit re-reading the words, and he folded it up, just staring at the creases. He had a hollow feeling in his stomach that rose to his chest, made him feel empty and at fault, guilty and angry. He tried not to think about the other feeling that lingered in the dark corners of his mind, because he was better than that; he wasn't going to label that creeping sense of relief he felt; it shamed him, and he pushed it back; it didn't make sense. He loved her; he loved Natalie.

He finally opened his mouth.

"How long?"

Jackson took a deep breath.

"She's been gone three and a half weeks," he said bluntly. "Pulled the wool over my eyes."

Gibbs looked at him wearily; he didn't believe him. He stared at his father, and he had the irrational fear that Jackson had ushered her off to spite him, told her to run – or at least not tried to stop her. He didn't know if his father would do that or not; he didn't ask.

Three and a half weeks. That meant – the last batch of drawings he'd received from Natalie had come from – wherever Jenny was.

"Where is she?" he asked finally, his voice hoarse.

Jackson made a face.

"Jasper hasn't told me," he growled. "I reckon she's with that mother of hers," he added.

Gibbs nodded – that would be his best bet. Where else would Jenny go, with hardly any money, and a little girl to take care of? If she wanted to do this – what had she said? Make her own way, her own choices to leave Stillwater, so she wouldn't be miserable with regret, and resentful? If she wanted to do that, she had to at least have some place to start.

She'd always said it was better there. When she was pregnant, when she took Natalie for that first visit. Jenny had always said she felt at ease there; more comfortable, like she could breathe; less judged and looked down on.

"What'd that letter say?" Jackson asked abrasively.

Gibbs said nothing; he pulled it towards him pointedly, bending it towards his chest; it was personal, his to read, his to know.

"She give a good reason for takin' my granddaughter away?" Jackson pressed.

Gibbs looked at him sharply, his lips drawn tight.

"This isn't about you," he said in a hard, unforgiving voice. The door of the general store opened with the ring of a bell, as Gibbs' eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, fixated on his father. "How hard did you make it on her?" he snarled.

"Your old man had nothing to do with my daughter's choices."

Gibbs looked over; the opening door had been Chief Shepard. He noticed now that a police car was parked out front; the chief was in full uniform, and he stood looking tight-lipped and angry, his cap held under his arm.

"Mrs. Henry called me," Jasper Shepard said in a clipped voice, without being asked. "There was a fight?"

Gibbs stood slightly, leaning on the table. He didn't remark on the fight, he looked at Jenny's father square in the eye for a long moment.

"She's gone?" he asked deliberately, wanting to hear it from Jasper.

Shepard looked at him balefully, his shoulder stiff and heavy. He moved his head once, in a curt, sharp nod.

Gibbs' jaw twitched.

"She's gone for good," he stated, half question, half assertion. He studied his girlfriend's father, and though Jasper didn't nod, or say anything; the look on his face confirmed it, and after another long silence, Jasper cleared his throat.

"I told her not to come back," he said in a low voice. "She threw away my support."

Gibbs slammed his hand down on the table.

"You never gave her enough goddamn support," he shouted, desperate. He turned and shot a nasty look at his father. "You were just as bad – she felt, she felt," he stumbled over his words, because he could hardly put into words what Jen felt, he never seemed to quite grasp it, or understand. "You couldn't just get the fuck over it," he snapped dangerously.

"I won't be spoken to like that, son," Jasper said coolly, placing is police cap on his head.

Gibbs looked between them sourly.

"You just _let her go_ ," he snarled, eyes darting between both of them. He settled on Jasper. "You told her she can't come back?" he demanded. "What if she'd – changed her mind?"

The Chief gave him a hard look.

"I'm tired of trying to teach that girl she has to give up the life she thought she was going to have," he said in a hollow voice. "You want her back, you want to support her, forgive her, that's your right," he said. He shook his head slightly. "She's over eighteen now. She made her decision. She's on her own."

Gibbs grit his teeth. He tried to think that unfair, he tried to hate the Chief, but he couldn't; why should Jasper open his doors to Jenny again, why should he reward her, when aside from his continued disappointment and cool nature, he hadn't kicked her out, hadn't sent her away, hadn't been cruel?

He sat down heavily, with a loud thud, and he put his head in his hands, staring down at the bent letter she'd written – not a Dear John, a Dear Jethro, but still, the same sentiment was there. He looked up, at his father, at her father.

"She took Natalie," he said hoarsely. He rubbed at his jaw, ignoring the pain. "She's got all the custody, she's got all the legal rights," he went on rapidly, still scratching at his skin. He slammed his palm down, grit his teeth. "She can't _take_ Natalie, she can't let her think _I didn't want her_!" He ran his hand down the back of his neck, grabbing at his collar.

"Where is she?" he demanded. He held up the letter, and shook it. "No return address – where is she, Chief?" he asked, looking up. "She with her mother?"

"Did she tell you what she wants to do in that letter?" the Chief asked stiffly, his eyes narrowing angrily at the sight. "I told that girl – to call you; to talk to you – "

"You raised yourself a goddamn coward, sir."

Jackson Gibbs shot his son a warning look – it didn't matter how pissed Jasper Shepard was at his daughter; it didn't matter what he said about cutting her loose, she was flesh and blood, and Gibbs didn't need to be insulting her to his face.

"That may be," Jasper said mechanically, "but I told her I washed my hands of it. I told her it's on her."

He turned stiffly, and walked squarely out, with Jackson giving him a mean look, and Gibbs looking back down at the letter. He stared for a moment, and then got up, shoving the table out from under him so fast it skidded back and toppled over; he ignored his father as he barreled out and caught up with Jasper, shoving his hand in between the car door and the roof to make sure it didn't close.

"You got to give me her mother's address," he demanded, eyes sharp.

Jasper sighed harshly.

"That's my ex-wife's private home you're talking about, Leroy," he said tensely. "I can't have you showin' up – "

"I can't just show up!" Gibbs interrupted angrily. "I got to report to active duty in one day – 'M not going to go harass your wife – I got to have some place to send my child support, don't I?" he asked sardonically.

Jasper was quiet a moment.

"You let her screw her head on, she'll call you," he said confidently. "She'll tell you how she wants to do it, lettin' you see your daughter."

Gibbs shook his head.

"You think she's going to do that, Chief?" he asked.

He bristled.

"Do I think she's going to keep you away if you fight for your rights?" he asked. "I sure as hell don't – are you gonna fight, boy?"

Or was he too angry, and too ashamedly relieved, to really go for the throat? And if he wanted to, would Jasper really follow through with his threat to hire a lawyer against his own child?

Gibbs pulled the door open, staring at him hard for a long time.

"I got to talk to her," he said, his voice breaking slightly – though his face showed almost no emotion, no emotion by practiced stone control. "I got to talk to her," he repeated forcefully. "I wait for her to come to me, what's that say about how much I care?"

"Maybe it's you disrespecting her wishes," Jasper countered sharply.

"Then with all due respect, screw her, sir," Gibbs fired back, raising his voice. "If not her, I got to talk to Natalie. My daughter is gonna hear my voice."

That gave the Chief pause, and Gibbs realized this man was just as taken aback, just as confused and angry as he himself was. He stood there waiting, and finally Jasper grabbed something from the glove compartment, and took a pen from a pocket on his uniform. He snapped it, and began to write.

He folded the paper, and handed it over stiffly.

"That's my ex wife's telephone number," he said, staring rigidly ahead. He swallowed hard, and then reached for the door, aiming to pull it shut. "Might be you ought to just let her go, Leroy," he ventured finally, his tone a little wistful, a little bitter. His lips turned up. "Natalie'll come looking for you some day, and she'll hate her mother for it. That's your payback."

Gibbs leaned down, his hands braced on the roof of the car.

"What kind of man you think I am, sir?" he asked harshly.

The Chief looked at him, his eyes unreadable.

"Don't think I ever figured that out," he answered, just as harsh.

He left Gibbs standing there in the sun, holding that small, torn piece of paper, and it took only a second for Gibbs to storm into his father's store and ignore the words that flew form Jackson's mouth; he made a beeline for the sleek black phone sitting behind the counter, picked it up, shoved his finger in the old dial, turned it to the first number –

\- and hung it up with an abrupt slam, his heart clenching in his throat, paralyzed; because he couldn't do it, right now – he couldn't move, he couldn't think, he couldn't bring himself to hear her, or Natalie, right now – he couldn't do it.

* * *

Twenty hours later, and he was stagnant; he hadn't called, he still couldn't touch a phone, and he was at a crossroads.

He sat on a smooth wooden bench at the lone bus depot, a vintage black velvet box in his hands. He wore his dress blues, ready to board the bus, ready to report to Camp Lejeune, and with soft pops he opened and closed, opened and closed, his mother's engagement ring; every time the glitter caught the sun it stung his eyes, and when he closed them, he wondered what it would have looked like on Jenny's finger.

That was his first mistake, maybe; thinking he should use his dead mother's ring.

He stared at the gem, wondering why he couldn't pick up a phone.

There were footsteps behind him, and someone sat down; a wary glance over his shoulder told him it was only a teenage girl, sitting there with a suitcase at her side. He ignored her, simply glad it wasn't his father, come to harangue him one last time.

Jackson had berated him, cajoled him – asked him over and over if he was going to go after the girl, step up, be a man – but what kind of man was he, if he couldn't even give her confidence in him in the first place? If he didn't report to Lejeune on time, he'd be labeled a deserter, and then two things could happen – he'd make Jenny come to her senses, and it would be moot, because he'd be in prison – or she'd stick to her guns, and he'd be in prison; he doubt Jenny would bring Natalie to see an incarcerated father, and he wouldn't want his baby in a jail, so it seemed – his only option was to call her.

But he couldn't; he didn't know what to say, how to plead, what to demand.

Jasper had made the curt comment, when Gibbs had brought up child support again, that Jenny forfeited that when she ran off, but Gibbs didn't want to risk depriving her of that if it meant she'd keep Natalie away – but how could he see Natalie when he'd never have leave, not when he was so freshly a Marine – and what where the chances he'd work out some plan with Jenny like her own parents had worked out? She hadn't even considered leaving Natalie with him when she went to visit her mother.

He felt a flare of anger, and despair – it was simultaneously like he hadn't known Jenny at all, and like he'd expected this, and under all that, he kept trying to fight that ugly relief that tickled at him – he'd loved Jen – no matter how conflicted his anger made him now – and he loved Natalie unconditionally, but then why did he feel like she'd taken a burden off of his shoulders?

If he'd always been the one telling Jenny she had to get over it, why was he suddenly – despite how he felt about his daughter, fighting this sinister, quiet whisper that if he chose a certain path, he'd be off the hook for a little while?

Was it because his mother wasn't here to inspire him, was it because he'd never been a teenager at all, once Jenny had gotten pregnant?

He felt cool and despicable, and that made him angrier with her, for bringing this out in him.

He snapped the jewelry box shut with a loud, final pop, and sat back, and his back straight. He pushed up the cap on his head and stared straight ahead at the empty streets, waiting. The bus ride ahead of him would be long; too long and quiet for him. He didn't want to think; he didn't want to face himself anymore – not right now.

The wind blew, and he turned his face away from dust, catching sight of a glint of red. He lifted his eyes cautiously, looking at the other person waiting. It was that girl again, the one Betsy had shrieked out. He looked a blink longer than he should have – not for lascivious reasons, but because he remembered that she'd spoken angrily at the dress shop when Deborah Henry had broken the news.

In that long blink, she turned her head, and caught him staring. He turned back around slowly, sorry to have garnered her attention. She shifted, and put her arm on the bench, turning towards him. She tilted her head.

"You're the guy with the baby," she remarked – as if she was finally meeting some infamous outlaw. He thought it was an odd thing to say – she had clearly seemed to know who he was, before.

He turned his head and looked at her, silent while he considered her cautiously.

"Lotsa guys have babies," he said finally. He didn't know where she was going with this, and he didn't want to talk about Natalie with some curious gossip – not ever, and especially not now.

She smiled and nodded, her brow going up a little – amused, no doubt, because while plenty of guys did indeed have babies, he'd be the only one for miles who had a three year old at nineteen. Or – almost three, as it were.

"What exactly were you and those guys fighting about?" she asked, switching gears boldly.

Gibbs blinked warily; she sounded gossip-y, but not in the way he was used to. There was no wicked glitter in her eyes, like she couldn't wait to hear something so she could pass it on to anyone who would listen. She just seemed – interested, fascinated, maybe, in a small town way, but harmless. He didn't feel like she was just trying to entertain herself.

She gave him a quiet look while he considered her, and reached over and touched his shoulder, lightly and softly.

"You should stop," she advised. "Fighting."

He didn't say anything for a long time, and then he cleared his throat.

"They insulted Natalie's mother," he said finally.

That was the simple truth of it, after all. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was habit, or maybe it was that Chuck's words had reminded him of just how unforgiving this town had been to Jenny, and he'd thought every single word, look, and thought like that had culminated in Jenny running away.

He started to turn back around, but something she said stopped him.

"I don't know why. My mother and my aunt used to say mean things, too," the girl said calmly, her tone unassuming. She laughed. "That's why I never told them I thought she was brave."

Gibbs looked at her sharply.

"Brave?" he repeated, before he could stop himself. He hadn't meant to sound skeptical, but that's how she took it.

"What else would you call it?" she asked brazenly. "If I were her, I'd have given up."

Gibbs blinked. He shook his head.

"Don't think you would," he said dryly.

"You don't know me at all," she pointed out.

He arched an eyebrow.

"You jumped in front of Chuck's fists," he said warily.

She lifted her shoulders.

"Even Chuck was raised not to hit a girl," she said abruptly. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "He calls girls sluts, you know," she said, "but only after he gets them in bed with him."

Gibbs didn't feel he really needed that bit of information, but he didn't doubt it. And after all the things that prick had said about Jenny, who'd only ever been with one man, because she loved him. He lowered his eyes, and scowled. This girl reached forward, and touched his shoulder again.

"I'm Shannon," she said.

He nodded; that rang a bell.

"Melissa Fielding's niece," he remembered gruffly.

She nodded.

"My family doesn't mix business with pleasure," she said. "I spend a lot of time at Mrs. Henry's." She paused for a long time, hesitant. "There's a dress Natalie wore," she began, "pale blue, with green ribbons – "

Gibbs nodded; he didn't want to hear about Natalie. But he knew the dress – Jenny had made it.

"It's made from leftover fabric from one of my cotillion sundresses," Shannon said quietly, and a little bashfully. "The colour suited her better."

Gibbs blinked. It was almost – from the way Shannon talked, it was almost like she'd admired Jenny, and Gibbs had never met anyone in this town who gave Jenny any credit. He cleared his throat, but he didn't have anything to say.

He went out on a limb.

"She seem that unhappy?" he asked. He didn't mean Natalie, and that was clear.

Shannon licked her lips.

"I didn't know her that well," she hesitated.

"It's Leroy Jethro Gibbs," he muttered – he figured she knew, but she had a knack for affecting a polite innocence about other people's business, even if she'd heard it through the grapevine.

"Gibbs," she said demurely, and then leaned over a little more. "I don't know what happened. But I don't think it was you."

He snorted derisively.

She turned away for a moment, and then looked back.

"Do you need company?" she ventured bravely. "It's a long ride."

He glanced over her uncertainly.

"Where are you going?" he asked her cautiously. His destination was a long ride, but this little debutante couldn't be going further than Philadelphia; there must be some ball for her to get to.

She lifted her shoulders.

"I'm just going," she said smoothly. She grinned. "I graduated three days ago," she told him. "I've saved every penny I've gotten since I was ten, and people give little spoiled rich girls plenty of money," she quipped.

He looked at her with an unreadable expression, and she pursed her lips.

"I'm exploring," she said simply. "I'm going to see some of the world. Then settle down."

"Settle down?" he asked.

She shrugged.

"Have kids," she said thoughtfully. "I don't know, fall in love. Not like my parents, though," she sighed. "They'll disown me, for making my own choices."

He stared at her, for how brightly she admitted that. She just lifted her shoulders again. She smiled.

He clenched his fist, the jewelry box still in his hand, and he looked down – he felt conflicted, because he'd enjoyed this conversation; it had distracted him. But in the silence that fell, he was back to dwelling almost instantly, back to thinking about what he was going to do – what he was going to say, when he had a phone to his ear, and it was ringing on Jenny's side of the world.

Maybe he'd bypass her, and ask only to speak to Natalie, and whisper promises he might not be able to keep; maybe he'd berate Jenny, and she'd cut him off for good – maybe he'd screw it up more than he apparently already had.

He raised his head, and turned to look at Shannon, and he nodded – answering her earlier questions.

"I don't want to talk about her," he warned.

She rested her arms on the edge of the bench, and her chin on her arms; her eyes warm and calm, her expression friendly and unthreatening.

"You can talk about anything you want," she said easily. She smiled a little sympathetically. "Or you can sulk, and I can talk about nothing."

He felt relieved; he thought he liked that second idea, even if he didn't like being told he was sulking – mourning maybe, or quietly raging.

He fell into silence while she tilted her head and said something generic, started to talk, and he wondered where she'd decided to stop along the way – he had to get off in North Carolina, but the bus stopped in Philadelphia, Washington D.C., Baltimore, East Tennessee, and little cities all over Virginia – before it reached Lejeune.

He stood when the ominous bus cam,e and she stood, her vintage suitcase clasped in her hand. He paused before the door, and turned to her.

"Why?" he asked hoarsely – why did she care, why did she want to help, why was she interested at all? It couldn't be attraction; she was young, maybe just recently eighteen, if that – a year behind Jenny, and anyway, girls weren't interested in men who'd already made a mess of their lives before they'd even left their teens.

Shannon Fielding blinked in the sun, and looked like she didn't know herself. She parted her lips, and took a thoughtful breath.

"I think you need a friend, Gibbs," she said softly – as simple as that.

He stared at her, and she slipped past him to take a seat on the bus.

He slipped the jewelry box in his pocket, and followed warily, slowly – the doors shut behind him, and somehow, he knew he was really leaving this town in the dust for good this time – and he sat down next to this girl, and decided to let her distract him for the next ten hours – and when he got to base, he told himself, that's when he'd figure out what he was going to do; where he was going to go from here, this small dusty town that had given and taken the most unexpected thing in his life.

* * *

 _"Ain't no 'Maybe we can make it if we just play the right cards'_  
 _Now it's over when it's over_  
 _Ain't it, baby, ain't it?"_  
 _Erich Church; Over When It's Over_

* * *

 _To be continued in Part Two._

* * *

 _now, are all y'all ready to lynch me?  
you had to know i'd work that classic dear john letter in there somehow, right?  
let me know your thoughts (unless you want to kill me, keep that to yourself please)_

 _-alexandra_


End file.
